Recovery
by Miscruft
Summary: A horrific accident leaves James Wright traumatized, to the extent that he walks away from the sport of Dogfighting completely. Tortured by memories, he transfers to the Boys Division of Ooarai High School in Japan, one of the few schools that has no Dogfighting agenda. Unwillingly, he is forced to join a new team ahead of the the Joint Tankery and Dogfighting World Championships.
1. Prologue - Part 1

An immense swell of cloud rose slowly into the air, resembling a colossal tidal wave. It loomed menacingly over everything in its reach, forming a barricade between the sun and all below. A long tendril of silvery cloud-stuff emanated from its side, as if it were beckoning to someone. If anyone were to fall victim to its charms, they would be swallowed up by its gaping grey jaws; then drawn further inwards to reside for an eternity, lost in its cold, dark core.

* * *

Six Mark V Supermarine Spitfires accompanied by eight Mark IIc Hawker Hurricanes cruised through the air in a perfect V formation. James glanced down at the Altitude gauge of his Spitfire. 19,000 feet, just the altitude where the air becomes uncomfortably thin. Reaching up with a gloved hand, he fiddled with his oxygen mask before strapping it across his face. He felt an involuntary shiver run down his body. No matter how many times he went up, he would never be able to shake off the mind-numbing cold of the earth's troposphere. As if echoing his own thoughts, the intercom crackled to life.

"Bloody hell Commander can we get a move on? I'm freezing my bollocks off up here!" The ever jovial tones of Chester Winningham were recognisable to James instantaneously. He turned to look at the Hurricane on his left. Their tight packed formation meant he couldn't have been any further than 10 metres away from it. Inside the cockpit he saw Connor, one of his closest friends roll his eyes before putting his mask on.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to second that Skipper – we've been up here nearly two hours now!" Adrian Helford groaned into the radio. "I can't feel my legs no more."

"For Christ's sake, why haven't we seen them by now?" Monty snapped, the sound of him slamming his fist into his cockpit window in frustration audible over the intercom.

"Calm down Monty, you might need that window in a bit." Henry Evans joked.

"Shut your mouth Evans." Monty quickly retorted, irritable as ever.

"Relax boys." The mature and reasonable voice of Ben Talbot cut in. "Not gonna lie, this is pretty odd, those German lads are usually pretty punctual in getting it over and done with." There was a unanimous agreement over the intercoms.

"So, what's the plan then Skipper?" Sam Taylor inquired over the radio. There was a long silence. All of the crew of St. George's Senior School waited expectantly for a reply from their Commander. Finally, the emotionless and uncompromising voice of Squadron Commander William Hughes drifted out of the pilot's headsets:

"We follow the plan we agreed on beforehand. Alpha Squadron, proceed to climb to 25,000 feet."

"Commander, I don't think…" Jacob Sanders began but was interrupted by a calm yet cold retort on the part of William.

"To be quite honest Sanders, I don't give a shit what you think. And if you continue to cause unnecessary radio chatter by sharing your thoughts and feelings to the squadron, I will shoot your fat arse out of the air myself."

Another long silence followed.

"Begin Climb to 25,000 feet."

James increased the throttle on his Spitfire, prompting the Rolls-Royce Merlin Engine to wail demonically. Slowly, he pulled back on his control stick, causing the elevator to raise. The Spitfire effortlessly soared into a climb. James felt himself being pushed back into his seat by the sheer force generated by his plane's phenomenal climb rate. He would never get tired of that feeling, the mixture of fear and exhilaration the roar of the Spitfire evoked in him. It was times like these when he truly recognized he was never really in control of this beast, he was merely being carried along for the ride. Such a prospect was nothing short of terrifying, but simultaneously, it was intoxicating.

It was addictive.

* * *

Another half hour had passed and there was still no sign of the opposition. That was until, all of a sudden, Daniel Wallace bellowed into the intercom:

"Targets spotted, 11 o'clock, by that cloud." He was breathless with excitement. James craned his neck to get a good view of the supposed sighting. Surely enough, eighteen aircraft had emerged out of an enormous grey storm cloud, resembling a flock of oversized metallic birds.

"They're making a beeline towards us Commander." Chester piped up once again, his voice shaking with anticipation.

"Looks like ten Bf 109s, six Focke-Wulf 190s and…" Harry Davies was interrupted.

"Jesus Christ! Are those Messerschmitt 410s?" Connor exclaimed. Shielding his eyes from the sun to get a better look at the two heavy fighters accompanying the approaching enemy squadron, James cursed into his mic:

"Fucking hell, I didn't have a clue this lot were so heavily armed."

"They're the bloody Munich Academy, what the hell did you expect mate?" Henry replied with a nervous laugh.

"Alpha squadron, listen up." The authoritative voice of William Hughes dominated the intercom. Everyone fell silent. "The opposition don't know that we've seen them yet, let them think they have the element of surprise, continue our course as normal. On my mark, break and commence attack."

James gripped his control stick with both hands. His gloved knuckles were white. He couldn't take his eyes off the approaching forces. Could they really take out such powerful opposition? He had been dogfighting since he knew how to take off and land an aircraft. Yet in all his fifteen years, he had never come up against such a formidable force as the one ascending rapidly towards him right now. Just the name of the Munich Academy struck fear into the hearts of opponents around the world. Their reputation alone was intimidating. As a brother school to the Black Forest Peak Girl's Academy, James expected no less. They were recognised around the world as the very best at the sport of Dogfighting.

"Uhh, Commander, they're actually getting fairly close to us now." Sam's voice became louder with every word.

"They can't be any less than 400 metres away." Ben spoke quickly.

"Hold your course." The commander's voice shook ever so slightly.

James could see the inscriptions on the enemy's aircraft. His eyes glazed over all of them searching for one number in particular. All of a sudden, he found it. His breath hitched in his throat. 363. That was him. Reinhardt Schneider. The Munich Academy's ace. He was a year older than James, but was already hailed as one of the best pilots the sport had ever seen. James had been watching him religiously for the last three years. He was clinical in his manoeuvres, astonishingly accurate in his aim, there was not a single aircraft that had ever emerged victorious in a dogfight with him. James had seen him take down entire squadrons by himself. It was a fact of life known by boys competing in dogfighting all around the world; if you ran into Reinhardt Schneider, you were going to be shot down.

"Alpha Squadron, break on my mark."

James raised his throttle, preparing to follow the manoeuvres he had been rehearsing for the past several years.

"Remember, this is the final, we have one shot. We've put too much into this competition to come out here and be humiliated. If we win, we will be the first team in the history of St. George's School to have won the world championships. We will break the Munich Academy's winning streak. The world is watching this, all eyes are on us. We cannot lose…" William was interrupted by a series of 50. Cal rounds ripping past his plane, missing his fuselage by mere inches.

"Alpha Squadron! Break formation!"

James yanked his control stick backwards and to the left, simultaneously ascending and rolling his Spitfire. For a brief moment he was weightless, everything below him appeared to freeze up. His eyes glazed over the chaotic scene below him. Tracer bullets ripped through the air, leaving blood red and acid green trails in their wake. Messerschmitts and Hurricanes performed a dizzying, acrobatic waltz. Mangled chunks of aircraft spiralled downwards to the earth, torn and butchered by the unrelenting force of steel bullets. In the midst of this pandemonium, James spotted his target, a stray Focke – Wulf 190. He slammed the throttle to full power, sending his Spitfire hurtling downwards towards the fray. James gritted his teeth, struggling to bear the immense G force such a manoeuvre was putting his body under. He pulled his control stick ever so slightly towards him, pitching the Spitfire upwards. The Focke-Wulf was just about in his crosshairs.

"Wait for it." He whispered urgently to himself. "Just a little longer." He was itching to squeeze the trigger and unleash the rolling thunder of his eight .303 Browning Machine Guns.  
"Come on then you German bastard." He spat. James pushed the throttle up to 110%, causing his Spitfire to let out an ungodly scream. There was that feeling again. He was riding with a Fury. He hurtled downwards towards the Focke-Wulf. James saw the pilot jerk his head to see the Spitfire tearing through the air towards him. He could see his eyes grow wide in shock. He could see him desperately try to pull up and out of the way. But he was too late. A voice rang out in James' head, bellowing: "Take the shot!"

He did not need to be told twice. He squeezed the trigger with all his might. Red tracer rounds lacerated the air, like a hoard of blood – thirsty piranhas. They devoured the fuselage of the Focke-Wulf, ripping and hacking at its wings. By the time James stopped firing, the flaming hunk of mutilated metal in front of him was barely recognisable as a plane. The cockpit sprung open and the pilot ejected. James pulled up to avoid the falling wreckage that was once a Focke-Wulf. In doing so, he flew directly past the ejected pilot. For a split – second, they had eye contact, each boy glared at the other. As James became to climb again, he looked in his rear view mirror. He saw the flaming wreckage of the Focke-Wulf careering back down to the ground, followed by its pilot, whose parachute had just deployed.

"Fix that, dickhead." James quipped to himself with a smile of glee. His moment of triumph was short-lived. Suddenly, green tracer rounds shot past his window, several of which ripped directly through his fuselage. Swearing into his oxygen mask, he yanked on his control stick, rolling the plane in an evasive manoeuvre. He looked into his rear view mirror. Behind him were two planes; tailing him was a Bf 109, and trailing behind it, the hulking silhouette of an Me 410, its twin Daimler-Benz engines shrieking satanically. His headset crackled to life.

"James, you've got two hostiles on your six!" It was Connor. James spun his head to the right and to see his Hurricane trundling along through the air. His plane had evidently taken a bit of a beating, and was trailing light grey smoke. On closer inspection, he could see that the Hurricane was flying slightly lopsided.

"Connor, you've taken some hits mate." James replied into his mic.

"Never mind me, get the fuck…" Conor was cut off by more rounds ripping through the air, just grazing his left wing.

"Jesus Christ!" James grabbed the stick and yanked it to the right. Those weren't tracer bullets, they were cannon rounds. The Me 410 had got a shot on him, and had missed by the smallest margin.

"James you've got to lose that 410, if he gets another shot on you you're fucked." The Bf 109 let loose another volley of tracer rounds. The shots didn't get anywhere close to his aircraft, but shocked him into action.

"Connor, I'm gonna try and lose the 410 in that cloud over at ten o'clock."

"What about the Bf 109?"

"Maintain your altitude, I'll lead him right up to you." Connor took some time to process this and reply.

"Alright, go for it."

"I'm going in." James sharply pushed his stick forward, forcing his Spitfire to enter a steep decline. As he predicted, the Bf 109 followed. Unfortunately, so did the 410. James grabbed the throttle control and shoved it up to full power. He looked at his speedometer. 748 Kilometres per Hour.

"Faster." He whispered to himself. He pushed the stick forward even further, taking the plane into a dive. He looked in the rear view mirror to see both enemy aircraft following him. He pushed the stick as far forward as possible, bringing the plane into a completely vertical position. 897 Kilometres per Hour.

"Good enough." He thought to himself. He took a deep breath, and proceeded the wrench the control stick backwards. The entire frame of the plane audibly creaked as he rapidly pulled out of the dive and headed for the cloud. The G force was almost unbearable. He forced his eyes open and turned his head to look out of the cockpit window. The Bf 109 had managed to pull out of the dive and was continuing to pursue him. Luckily for James, his manoeuvre had caught the pilot of the 410 off guard. He could see him laboriously pulling his 6,000 kilo aircraft out of a dive. By the time the Munich Academy pilot was flying horizontally once more, James had disappeared into the clouds, followed closely by the 109.

* * *

"I don't know about you David, but I think that was a very well executed manoeuvre."

"I'm going to have to agree with you there Larry. Whilst the Munich Academy's Messerschmitt 410 has astonishing firepower, its weakness lies in its turning speed, it just can't keep up with the lighter St. George's aircraft!"

"That there was James Wright of St. George's School, he's one of the youngest on the team and has had an excellent tournament so far. We've already seen him take down Gerhard Muller's Focke-Wulf which was a big loss for the Munich Academy, Muller having the second highest kill rate in the team!"

"I'd say he's one to watch out for in the future Larry."

"Well David, let's hope he can turn the tables for this St. George's team who are currently six planes down, they only have 8 aircraft left compared to Munich Academy's 15! They're completely outnumbered!" 


	2. Prologue - Part 2

An Introduction to Dogfighting:

The sport of Dogfighting is one of the most popular in the world. It is practiced at all levels, from amateur teams to school teams, to professionals clubs and national teams. Dogfighting is practiced in over 140 countries around the world. In a 2023 international census, Dogfighting was listed in the top 3 most popular sports around the world. The sport has an immense following. In the 2021 World Cup Finals, hosted by Russia, over 4 billion people tuned in to see Germany take on the USA in a thrilling match.

Very much like its sister sport, Tankery, the art of Dogfighting originated in Japan. After the end of the Second World War, decommissioned military armoured vehicles and aircraft were reclaimed by the public and used recreationally. Thus the sport of Sensha – Do and Hikoki – Sen were born. Over the next seventy years, the popularity of the two sports grew until they were world renowned. Each sport is generally practiced by one of the two genders; males often choose to participate in Dogfighting, whilst females choose to take part in Tankery. However, it is not against the rules for boys or girls to compete in either sport. Typically the two sports are practiced separately. However, matches involving both aircraft and armoured vehicles have existed for decades and have proven extremely popular amongst the international community.

Both Dogfighting and Tankery have a rich history filled with tradition. An international culture has been formed around the two sports. People from all over the world can bond and celebrate their similarities and differences in the sports of Dogfighting and Tankery. Professional Tank Crews and Pilots are viewed as Gods amongst the international community. Hundreds of celebrities can attribute their fame to either Dogfighting or Tankery. The sport is also highly practiced amongst schools all around the world. There are very few schools on the planet that don't have either a Dogfighting or Tankery program. Whilst some schools view these two sports as a casual recreational activity, there are many schools around the world that treat them with immense seriousness. There are many such institutions that have been performing these sports for over 70 years. Many of these schools base their entire system around the sports of Tankery and Dogfighting. An example of one of these prestigious schools is the Munich Academy for Boys and its sister school, the Black Forest Peak Girls High School. In the event of a joint Tankery and Dogfighting match, these two schools will join forces to form a team. The same will apply to the hundreds of other brother and sister schools around the world. As a result of this, these schools will often train together. This gives the boys and girls in their respective schools the opportunity to socialise and make new connections that they would not otherwise make in their regular school life. There are many school competitions and tournaments that exist around the world. These tournaments can range from the very minor (e.g. Borough Competitions, Regional Leagues) to the major worldwide school events (e.g. National Competitions, Continental Tournaments, International Championships, the School's World Championships). The School's World Championships is held every two years and is one of the biggest sporting events in the world. It incorporates both Tankery and Dogfighting, and all schools with over five tanks and five aircraft are allowed to compete. The qualifiers will take place in each respective country. Schools residing in the same nation will battle it out to find who will be able to represent their country in the World Championships. All matches after the qualifiers are aired live on television globally. The 2023 School's World Championship was viewed by nearly two billion people. The winners of this competition are treated as national heroes in their home country. It is not unheard of for Tank Commanders or Pilots to attract fandoms consisting of hundreds of thousands of adoring fans. It is every aspiring pilot or tank commander's dream to win the World Championships for their school, their country and their teammates.

Safety is the number one priority in the sport of Dogfighting. Every measure must be taken to ensure that the pilot is protected to the highest possible extent. As a result, in school Dogfighting, no planes devised or constructed after 2nd September 1945 may be used. All weaponry and armaments made or designed before this date are permitted, as long as the particular weapon or armament does not put the lives of pilots at an unnecessary risk. All planes are to be fitted with cockpit windows made of DFA approved heavy weaponry - proof glass. Alongside this, all cockpits must be coated with a flame and shrapnel protective substance called Desporium in order to protect the pilots from harm. It is against the rules to use this substance on any other part of the aircraft, as it would give certain pilots an unfair advantage. One of the most important parts of safety protocol in Dogfighting is the ejector system. A highly advanced ejector seat is to be installed in every aircraft participating in the sport of Dogfighting. Any pilot caught flying without such a system installed can be subject to a court hearing and a potential ban from the sport for neglecting proper safety measures. In the event that a plane is shot down, the pilot will be ejected from the aircraft, a parachute will be deployed, and he will return to the earth's surface safely. Despite all of these safety precautions, fatal accidents have been known to occur in Dogfighting. Every pilot must recognise that whilst the sport may be exhilarating, it is also dangerous.

* * *

James hated flying through clouds. The grey mist seemed to close in on him in a hypnotic fashion, wrapping him up, choking him…

An enormous crack rung out through the sky as green tracer bullets whizzed past him, temporarily illuminating his cockpit a ghostly green. James looked back. The Bf 109 was still trailing him.

"Connor, do you read?" James spoke into his mask.

"Yeah mate, that was a hell of a dive you did there, bet the Gs hit you like a motherfucker."

"You bet man, I'm still recovering." The groan of the 109s engine gaining on him made him almost shiver. "Connor he's still on me."

"I can't see you, fire a couple rounds." James complied, squeezing the trigger to let loose several crimson tracer bullets. The entire cloud was momentarily blood red, giving it a hellish aura.

"You got me?" James asked.

"Yeah bud, I got you. Start climbing, let's destroy this cunt and regroup."

"Are you sure your Hurricane can handle this Connor, you looked pretty banged up back there…"

"For fuck's sake James, have I ever let you down?"

James pondered for a second:

"Well there was that one time with that St. Gloriana girl who you said…"

"Jesus fuck, are you seriously bringing that up now?"

Despite his present situation, James laughed into his oxygen mask.

"I'm just fucking with you Con, you've never bailed on me – bringing the Kraut up to you now."

"One Weiner Schnitzel coming up!" Connor shouted into his mask. James grinned.

"Come on then mate, let's see how high you can go." He whispered to himself.

He pulled back the stick and began to climb. The 109 followed. As he exited the cloud, he jerked his stick to the left, rolling the plane, so Connor could get a shot on the enemy. James waited for the sweet sound of sharpened British steel ripping through soft German aluminium.

It never came.

Connor's voice appeared over his headset, distorted by some external roaring.

"James….out…he's…" Connor was bellowing into his mask, each word punctuated by white noise.

"Connor, what is it? You're breaking up!"

"Trap… they…..couldn't get….."

"Connor! What is happening?"

"He…waiting….it's…..for me."

"Who?" A sickening feeling began to surge through James. He felt bile rise to his throat. "Connor? Who?" James was now yelling into his mask, desperately looking around him to see where the 109 chasing him had gone.

"Connor! WHO? What the fuck is going on?"

"Out…..of there…now!"

"Connor what are you…"

"SCHNEIDER!" The sound of Connor's ejecting system igniting drowned out his bellows, but not before James heard that dreaded name. Reinhardt Schneider.

* * *

"Wow! What a kill by Munich Academy's Reinhardt Schneider on one of St. George's Hurricanes! That makes his fifth kill this match. What do you think of that David?"

"Well Larry that was quite some flying right there, I'd say Schneider is the most skilled pilot I've seen in School Dogfighting! Period!"

"I don't disagree David! Well the International Dogfighting Championships Final here in Great Britain appear to be coming to a close. St. George's have suffered massive losses, they only have one aircraft left and believe it or not it is James Wright, the fifteen year old is having the match of his life."

"He's done very well so far, he got a fantastic kill on a Focke-Wulf and performed some impressive manoeuvres to shake off one of the 410s. All eyes are now on him: James Wright of St. George's School representing the United Kingdom versus ten Munich Academy Aircraft representing Germany."

"I reckon everyone in Great Britain right now are praying this kid can pull off a miracle."

"Well Larry that's gonna have to be one hell of a miracle because Munich Academy have regrouped and all ten of them are flying in formation towards James' lone Spitfire."

"I'll tell you one thing David, I would not wanna be in his shoes right now."

"Too right Larry!"

* * *

It had been approximately three minutes since he had first caught sight of them. Ten Munich Academy aircraft flying in formation, heading directly towards him. As soon as James had caught sight of them, he had slammed the throttle up to maximum capacity, and sped off in the other direction. What else could he do? There was simply no question of him attempting to engage the Munich aircraft in his present position. He would be torn to shreds. Whilst he had the speed advantage on the Focke-Wulfs and the 410s, the six remaining Bf 109s were gaining on him at a terrifying rate. He reckoned he had around two minutes before they were in firing range of him. If he was going to do something, it had to be before then. He racked his mind for any possible inspiration. All of a sudden, he had an epiphany.

"James Edgar Johnson." He murmured to himself. He remembered the long nights in his early days where he'd stay up till 3:00 A.M. reading accounts of the Battle of Britain and World War 2 Dogfighting. James Edgar Johnson had been one of James' heroes. As well as being his namesake, he was one of the most lethal Spitfire pilots in the entirety of the Second World War, amassing upwards of forty kills during his service. He had a habit of using his aircraft's fantastic agility and climb rate to test his enemy pilots to the limit. James knew exactly what to do. He had no time to waste, the 109s were practically in firing distance of him. He sucked in air through his oxygen mask, steeling himself for the pain of the inevitable G force. He turned to look at the six 109s tailing him.

"Come on mate, you got this."

With that, he pushed the stick forward, entering a dive.

His Spitfire rapidly began to pick up speed. James kept an eye on his altitude gauge. He intended to level out at around 800 feet. He spun his head around to check if he was being followed. As he expected, the six 109s were tailing him, also engaged in a nose dive. He entered a cloud layer. He was getting close to the ground now. 13,150 feet.

He checked his speedometer. 856 Kilometres per Hour and increasing. He steepened the dive. He felt his torso being crushed against his seat once again. 908 Kilometres per Hour. Breathing suddenly became a laborious task.

The Spitfire shot through the cloud layers like a bullet through foam. 7,000 feet. Without warning, he emerged from the misty embrace of the cloud. The ground seemed to spin in a sickening fashion, looming up towards him. Such a sight caused James' stomach to churn in a most unpleasant fashion. 5,000 feet. He could see the White Cliffs of Dover perfectly now. Further inland, the Shard, London's tallest building was visible to him. He decided to take the 109s to town. Pulling up ever so slightly, he positioned his Spitfire so it was on a direct trajectory for the Capital of the United Kingdom.

* * *

"What a match this is proving to be! I'm gonna be honest David I thought this was all over but in an unexpected turn of events, James Wright has entered a nose dive, and is currently headed for the City of London!"

"Well Larry either the kid is nuts or he's a tactical genius. Either way he's managed to separate six Munich Academy Bf 109s from the rest of their Squadron. The numbers are still incredibly uneven but he's in with a much better chance than five minutes ago."

"Of course the London airspace is usually very high-density in terms of air-traffic but all airports in the surrounding area have been closed for this final, so the boys have the skies to themselves to battle it out."

"Let's have a look at the scenes over in London. Huge crowds have gathered in the streets to witness the very rare sight of a Supermarine Spitfire pursued by six Messerschmitt Bf 109s. This is truly incredible!"

* * *

James' Spitfire shot past Twickenham Stadium, the Munich Academy boys hot on his heels. He looked down to see enormous crowds cheering in the streets. Cheering him on. James began to grasp how important the situation at hand was. There were millions upon millions of people watching him. If he could pull off something special, he would be nothing less than a celebrity. He lowered his aircraft further. He was now at 600 feet, the houses below him were nothing more than a blur. He didn't think he'd ever flown this fast in his life. He was approaching Central London now, all the landmarks he knew so well appearing before his eyes. He scanned the horizon looking for one construction in particular. There it was, Big Ben. The enormous clock tower situated next to the Houses of Parliament. He would begin his climb there.

All of a sudden, green tracers flew past. He spun his head around. The Bf 109s had gained on him massively. They couldn't be more than 100 metres behind him. He cursed into his mask, and began to take evasive manoeuvres, rolling the plane right and then left. The engine screamed in protest as he raised the throttle. Big Ben was rapidly approaching. Just before he careered into London's most famous clock, he pulled up.


	3. Prologue - Part 3

**Black Forest Peak Girl's High,**

 **Baden-Württemberg,**

 **Germany**

"Why does Reinhardt keep letting him get away? Why doesn't he just shoot him down already?"

"You really have no idea how Dogfighting works Erika."

"Of course I do! Each team has some planes, they fly around and shoot each other down, and the team that eliminates all other opposition first wins – it's just like Tankery!"

"That's an over – simplification. Dogfighting is an art. There's much more to it than meets the eye."

"Oh yeah? And since when did you become an expert on Dogfighting Maho?"

A girl with light, chocolate–brown hair that came down to her neck turned to face her friend. Her forehead and eyebrows were partially obscured by a fringe comprising of rich, chestnut - coloured locks. Her eyes were striking. Two large, dark brown orbs that blazed with the intensity of a burning star. Her intense, vehement gaze alone would have been enough to intimidate even the most stoic of men. The girl she sat opposite had long, light-blonde hair down to her shoulders. Her irises were a brilliant aquamarine. Her eyebrows were raised in a scowl that rarely left her face. They both wore uniforms consisting of a light grey, long – sleeved blouse, and a dark black miniskirt. The girl with the brown hair pondered for a moment. She smiled in a subtle fashion at her friend.

"I read in my spare time."

* * *

James had reached 32,000 feet, and his Spitfire was beginning to stall. Every now and then a small red light would flash frantically indicating that he was stalling. He would level the plane out, pick up speed, and then climb again. He had been going like this for 10 minutes, as long as he kept doing this, the Bf 109s had no hope of getting a shot on him. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Despite his additional fuel tanks, he had been flying for nearly three hours. Eventually, his Spitfire was going to run out of gas to burn and plummet to the ground. If he was going to go out, he was going to go out in style. The world was watching, so why not? He had a friend in the USA by the name of Jason Hernandez who attended Nevada State High (one of the USA's many Dogfighting Academies) who had competed in the same competition two years ago, narrowly losing to Munich Academy in the final. He and his slick P-51 Mustang gained global recognition, he himself becoming an internet sensation, receiving hundreds of fan letters every day. James wondered to himself what it would be like to receive fanmail.

He was rudely interrupted from his daydream state by the bleep of the stall alarm. Mentally berating himself, he levelled out his plane, raised the throttle and began to climb once more. Looking behind him, only five planes remained. One of the 109s had sustained some serious damage to its tail in an earlier dogfight, and had been forced to return to base, putting its pilot out of the fight. James' eyes glazed over the remaining aircraft. They came to rest on the 109 with the black nose. That was him. That was Schneider's plane. At the start of the match, this sight would have terrified him. To be fair, it still did, but this time it was a different kind of fear. It was a fear that could be altered into grim determination. Composing himself, he cranked up the throttle once more and pulled his plane into a vertical climb.

It had barely been a minute before the stall alarm began bleeping. This time, he ignored it, and carried on. Soon, he felt the plane losing speed. The engine strained and roared, but it was evident that gravity was beginning to overpower it. He was now barely travelling above 50 kilometres per hour. He cut the engine. All of a sudden, everything was silent. He felt weightless once again. It was as though he could spend an aeon up here, with only the thin blue line between this world and beyond for company. The earth's gravitational pull had other ideas. Suddenly, he was falling. The plane was threatening to enter a spin. He stepped on the rudder controls to avoid this, forcing the Spitfire into a nose dive. He could see the 109s below him, approaching him. He could see them beginning to stall. He would meet them head on, strike just as they lost control of their aircraft. He grunted into his mask, psyching himself up for the impending contact. He ignited his engine once more, feeling the wail of the Spitfire resonate around the cockpit. He took aim. His crosshairs came into view of a 109. James did not wait. He grasped the trigger, and squeezed down, unleashing hellfire from his eight browning machine guns. He fired, and didn't stop firing until flames appeared around the fuselage of the 109. The plane, spinning uncontrollably, fell back down to earth, ejecting its pilot. James found another target. Taking aim, he fired. Red tracer bullets slammed into the front of the 109, shredding the single propeller. It went down. The three remaining 109s began to return fire. This time, they didn't miss. The sound of rounds ripping through his Spitfire made James cringe. He was now approaching the stalling 109s quickly. He aimed for the black tipped aircraft. He aimed for Schneider. A red mist descended on him, he squeezed down on the trigger, and did not let go. But Schneider saw this coming. Somehow, he managed to roll his plane 180 degrees, taking his 109 out of James' line of fire. One moment he was there, the next he had gone. Every part of his plane, out of his crosshairs, aside from the tail. James recognised his mistake immediately, and desperately tried to pull up to avoid collision, but it was futile. The Spitfire slammed into the 109s tail, sending both planes spiralling downwards.

James had never been in a spin, he only knew that it was a pilot's worst nightmare. There were very few people who could recover successfully once they had entered an all out spin. Reinhardt Schneider was one of them. James Wright was not.

Both planes were careering downwards side by side. Every now and then, the aircraft's spin aligned such that James could see Reinhardt's plane. Inside the cockpit, Schneider was frantically wrestling with his controls. He somehow managed to recover from the spin, but his tail had been decimated by the muzzle of James' spitfire. Schneider glanced over at James' spinning plane, his eyes alight with fury. For a brief second, their eyes met.

As soon as he was there, he was gone. Schneider bailed out of the aircraft, voluntarily using his ejector system. Thanks to James, his plane had no tail, and was therefore unflyable. The flaming Bf 109 spun violently off into the sky, leaving James and his out of control Spitfire alone.

He felt as though he was in a trance, everything was so surreal. It may have been down to how he had smashed his head against the control board during the collision. It may have been down to the immense G force his body was experiencing due to the spin. The cause of this feeling didn't matter. The only thing that mattered right now was that he got his plane out of this spin. He forced himself to focus, and looked down at his altitude gauge. 10,480 feet. Jesus. Had he really fallen that far that quickly? He had lost what seemed like 20,000 feet in the space of ten seconds. That couldn't be possible, could it? Lethargically, he reached out and grabbed his control stick, he went to pull up. It wouldn't budge. He used his feet to adjust the rudder control, but to no avail. His Spitfire had sustained more damage than he thought in the collision. There was no way he was going to be able to bring this thing out of a spin, let alone land it. He would have to bail out. Relief began to flood through his partially insensate mind as he reached for the manual ejector control. What he had done back up there had been pretty decent, even if he said so himself. He briefly imagined what it would be like when he got back down to ground. He would be praised around the entire country for his performance, taking out three 109s single-handed. His collision with Schneider hadn't necessarily been a kill, but it was the first time he had ever been made to bail out of his aircraft in his Dogfighting career. James would take that as a positive. He imagined getting back down to ground and being greeted by thousands of adoring fans, all wanting his autograph. He would be a celebrity, he would probably even be invited onto national television! Best of all, he would definitely receive fanmail. He couldn't wait to show off to Jason. Finding the ejector lever, James grasped it. Preparing himself for a freezing tidal wave of air, he cranked it up.

It took some time for James to realise that he was still in his aircraft, rapidly losing altitude and spiralling out of control. He pulled the lever again. Nothing happened. He slipped his right arm out of his restraint and used both arms to pull on it. Still, nothing happened. The ejector system had failed. The supposedly infallible ejector system had failed. James' blood ran cold in his veins. He reached up to his headset and tuned into the emergency frequency. He had been drilled on all the safety measures in the book. He knew how to recover from a stall, how to land a plane with no landing gear and how to stop an engine from overheating and exploding. But he had never been taught what to do if his ejector seat failed, mainly because such a situation was said to be impossible.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is James Wright, Identification Number X356. I am in an uncontrollable spin and my ejector system has failed. I repeat, I am in an uncontrollable spin and my ejector system has failed." Due to his head injury, his speech was slightly slurred. His headset spouted white noise. Suddenly a voice appeared.

"X356, Mayday Call Copied, please eject from your aircraft." James glanced at his altitude gauge. 6,000 feet.

"Negative, my ejector system has failed. I repeat my ejector system has failed." James spoke rapidly, the sustained G force beginning to make him feel light – headed.

The air traffic controller did not respond for awhile.

"X356 are you absolutely sure…"

"YES I'M FUCKING SURE!"

"Understood X356." The air traffic controller sounded visibly shaken. "X356 you are headed for the English Channel, Sector 438. You are to ditch your aircraft there and vacate it immediately. Rescue teams have been dispatched. You need to slow down your descent otherwise your aircraft will break apart on impact."

"Roger…" James' voice was feeble now, his head was pounding and his vision was becoming increasingly blurry. The spin was taking its toll on him. He felt bile rise into his throat.

4,000 feet.

He swallowed the disgusting, viscous, acidic substance. He needed to slow down. Fortunately, the spin had become less violent, and he still had some control in the rudders. Slamming his right foot down on the pedals, he managed to slowly bring the aircraft out of the spin, and maneuvered it into a nose dive. He felt himself begin to lose consciousness.

3,000 feet.

"X356 it is imperative that you slow your descent otherwise the impact will…"

"I'M FUCKING TRYING!" James yelled into his mask with a renewed fieriness. Fiddling with his flap controls, he focused on counting his breaths. His lungs were screaming. He ripped off his mask and gulped in the thin, stale cockpit air. He forced himself to think straight. What was he doing? He looked up to see the choppy waters of the English Channel rushing up to meet him. Oh yes, he needed to slow down. He deployed the landing gear. Flicking a switch, he dumped the remainder of his fuel. He trimmed the elevator as much as possible and, with barely functioning arms, pulled back on the control stick. The plane slowly, but surely began to raise up out of the dive. He was now to some extent in a control of his aircraft. 310 Kilometres per hour.

2,000 Feet.

"Come on mate." He whispered feebly to the aircraft. "Get me through this… Please…"

With all his might, he pulled the stick as far backwards as possible. The nose of the aircraft began to raise, bringing the Spitfire into somewhat of a controlled descent. Once again he tested the ejector system, but to no avail. He was going to have to perform a water landing.

1,000 Feet.

He could see helicopters surrounding his designated landing zone. Some were rescue aircraft, others were media choppers, filming his descent. He was gliding at 187 Kilometres per Hour.

500 Feet.

The foaming waters looked like the thick saliva of some great beast whose jaws he was flying into. His breathing was erratic and weak.

400 Feet

He raised the landing gear and the nose of the aircraft as much as possible.

300 Feet.

He gripped the control stick to the point where his hands throbbed with pain.

200 Feet.

He closed his eyes and prepared himself for impact.

100 Feet.

James didn't believe in God. Nevertheless, he prayed.

0 Feet.

* * *

"Well, there appears to have been some sort of problem. Uh… this is very serious. We don't really know what's happening at the moment but an emergency has just been called by the match officials and British Air Traffic Control, all pilots have been ordered to return to the ground and the match has been suspended. We believe that it's something to do with the mid air collision between a Munich Academy 109 and a St. George's Spitfire. What we do know for sure is that an unidentified aircraft has just crash landed on the English Channel."

"Let's go over to our chopper now, we can see that a Spitfire has just crash landed onto the English Channel. That may actually be James Wright's Spitfire. Why he didn't he eject Larry?"

"Well I don't know…uhh… this is an unexpected and incredibly serious situation. We have reports coming in that there was a malfunction in the Spitfire's ejector system, which is unheard of, I mean…"

"Ok, this is bad, we can see the Spitfire taking on water very quickly. James appears to have not exited the cockpit yet and rescue teams have still not reached his position."

"Oh my God. It's beginning to sink."

"They need to get him out of there! Why isn't he getting out?!"

"Ok... We're gonna have to end this here. This is Larry Davidson accompanied by David Rollitt reporting for CNN Sports. Thank you very much… Alright, cut the footage please. Yeah, right now…we can't show this...cut the footage!"

* * *

When James woke up, the water was already up to his knees. His hair was drenched with torrents of warm, crimson blood. The numbness of his legs in the frigid waters compared to the excruciating pain in his head created a horrific contrast. He felt his muscles tense up as his body began to go into shock. He felt himself hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and once again, he lost consciousness.

Once more he coughed his way back into waking. The water was now up to his neck. He attempted to cry out in surprise, but was too weak to do so, and merely croaked in horror. He went to breathe in, and instead took a gulp of salt water, prompting a coughing fit. He suddenly realised that if he stayed in this cockpit, he was going to drown. He raised his head, sucking in as much air as possible, before reaching for his seat strapping. He began to rip each one off as fast as possible. By the time he was free, the water had nearly filled the entirety of the cockpit. He heard the frame let out a sickening wail, and the Spitfire began to sink. Frantically he poked his face into the air pocket at the top of the cockpit, and inhaled deeply. The plane was now completely submerged. Everything was tainted an ominous dark blue. He sank back down into his seat, and pulled on the cockpit release lever. Immediately, he grabbed the top of the cockpit window, and began to push upwards with all his might. It wouldn't budge. This didn't deter him, he began to punch it furiously, he kicked it with all the strength he could muster. But it wasn't enough. The pressure was already too much. He looked up at the surface, now retreating away from him at a terrifying rate. He placed his hand against the transparent cockpit window, watching whatever chance of survival he had ascending away from him. He was being dragged down. He wanted to scream, but had no air left in his lungs with which to do so. The urge to breathe was becoming more unbearable than the desire not to drown. It felt as though there were a pair of hands kneading and tearing at his lungs. He couldn't take it any longer.

So he breathed in.

Salt water rushed down his trachea and into his lungs, filling them instantly.

It burned.

He felt his chest go into spasms, his larynx closed up. He was now already halfway through the torturous process of death by drowning.

His body had become limp, immovable. His hand fell away from the window of the cockpit. A cloudy, swirling vortex of blackness began to cloud his vision, moving inwards from the edges of his eyes, threatening to swallow everything up.

Soon, the only thing he could still sense was the weak pumping of his heart. It was getting slower. An eternity seemed to pass between each beat. Eventually, it ceased.

The spinning blackness met in the middle of his eyes.

He could see it perfectly now.

Eternal nothingness.

Oblivion.

James had always thought that once he had accepted his own death, everything would be ok. He would be fulfilled. He would be calm. He would even feel happy.

It would make him feel at peace.

He was wrong.

It still terrified him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I am aware that in the original Girls und Panzer series, all of the characters are of Japanese origin, and all events take place in Japan. I have changed this slightly, in order to make Dogfighting and Tankery a more globally accessible sport. Therefore, the schools in the series are actually based in the countries that they represent. For example, Kuromorimine is based in Germany, Saunders is based in the United States and St. Gloriana's is based in the United Kingdom. This means some character's nationalities will be changed. For example, Darjeeling would actually be British, and Kay would actually be American. Characters such as Maho will retain their original nationalities. Do not fear though, Ooarai is still a Japanese school and is based in Japan, all the characters are as they were in the original series. This is just a minor change and shouldn't make too much of a difference, as every school has their respective carriers anyway.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the final part of the prologue. Please feel free to give this story a review if you have any criticisms or suggestions, I would love to hear them and take them on board in order to make it as good as possible. The First Chapter should be out in the next few days:)**


	4. Chapter 1

**One**

James lashed out into the viscid semi-darkness of 3 o'clock in the morning, gulping down air as if his life depended on it. For a moment, his mind was completely blank. He had no recollection of where he was or what he was doing, all he knew was that he needed to get out. Kicking off the covers, he stood up beside his bed. Placing his hands to his temples, he forced himself to slow down his rapid breathing, counting each breath.

In. One. Two.

Out. One. Two.

Slowly, he began to come back to his senses. He glanced around the room, recognising his new dormitory. It was dark. He had just woken up. He was just sleeping. It wasn't real. He knew they weren't real. But they wouldn't stop.

The desperate urge to get out was still present within him, even though he knew that there was nothing to be got out of in his present situation. Nevertheless, his brain asserted that there was danger. His fight or flight response still raged through his nervous system. Adrenaline coursed through his body. Even though it was almost fifteen degrees in his room, he shivered.

He would not be getting any more sleep tonight.

He lay back down in bed, and waited for morning. Trying to ignore the residing feeling of an invisible hand clawing at his chest, he thought about the day ahead. It would be his first at his new school, and he couldn't help but feel dread. He would be the only transfer student joining the boy's division in his year. Whilst he wasn't necessarily a shy person by nature, James had no doubt that it was going to be exceedingly difficult to fit in. Firstly, he was joining a school made up of hundreds of boys and girls, all of which most likely already had their own established social groups and order. Secondly, there was practically no point in dividing the school into boys and girls, given a majority of lessons and clubs included both genders working together. James' old school had been a boys only school. Whilst St. George's was associated with girls schools such as the famed St. Gloriana's School, they only interacted with each other when it came to Tankery and Dogfighting, never in ordinary school life. The prospect of working alongside girls in the classroom and spending his daily school life around them baffled him beyond comprehension. Lastly, and probably most importantly:

His Japanese was just awful.

Originally, it hadn't mattered to James where he transferred to. He had just wanted to leave Europe behind altogether. He looked around American schools with no Dogfighting programme (these institutions were few and far between). Many of them would have been perfect for him.

The only problem was, he kept getting recognised. The incident in the final had been broadcasted worldwide. It was as though everyone on earth had witnessed it. He often felt like he was infected with some rare disease. Most people kept their distance, merely staring at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. Others openly came up to him and gave him sympathy. The words "it's a miracle you survived" were becoming more familiar to him than his own name. James couldn't stand people pitying him. It was practically unbearable in Britain. He could barely walk out of his house and down the street without a throng of people forming to give him "emotional support". It wasn't necessarily the people that infuriated him. James knew they meant well.

But they served as constant reminders of what had happened. Not a day went by when it didn't eat away at him. One minute, he would be daydreaming, and before he knew it, panic set in. He would struggle to breathe, he would have coughing fits, he could feel claustrophobic in the middle of an open field. The days were bad, but the nights were worse. Since the day it had happened, not a single night had passed where he didn't awake screaming out into the darkness, gasping desperately for breath, with no idea where he was. The only thing he would know was that he needed to get out.

James found himself digging his fingernails into his palms to the point where his hands throbbed with dull pain. He forced himself to think of something else.

It had been his idea to transfer to Japan. Of course, his parents had been completely against it, especially his father. He was a veteran of both the RAF and the sport of Dogfighting. He derived great joy out of watching his son follow in his footsteps, and was utterly distraught when he walked away from it. Neither father nor son had made much effort to talk to each other since the 23rd March, the day he had got out of hospital, and the day he had stopped Dogfighting. His mother had certainly been more supportive of his choice (she had hated seeing her son put his life on the line on a near daily basis). Unlike his father, she had been with him every step of the way after the incident. She had almost travelled the world with him over that summer, helping him look for the right school away from anything to do with Dogfighting. She had been with him when he discovered the quiet coastal city of Ooarai in Japan, home to Ooarai High School, one of the few schools in the world with no Dogfighting or Tankery programmes to speak of. She had sat through numerous meetings and interviews with him, helping him secure a place as a transfer student starting in the Sixth Form. She had helped him get everything ready to start his new school, his new life. He was incredibly grateful to her. He had waved goodbye to her only three days ago at the Ibaraki Airport. In all honesty, he already missed his mother.

* * *

His alarm clock screeched obnoxiously, indicating it was time to get up. James had been drifting in and out of sleep all night. Fortunately, his dreams had not reoccurred. Groaning, he rolled out from the under the covers. Clad in only his boxers, he limped over to his bathroom in an inebriated fashion. He switched on the shower, waited impatiently for the warm water, and climbed in.

Having showered, he found himself staring at himself in the mirror. His shock of dark blonde hair stood on end, making him look as though he had just been electrocuted. He ran his hand through the mess on his head, inadvertently causing himself to wince in pain. Standing closer to the mirror, he observed the enormous scar formation running from his left temple all the way round his head. Luckily, his hair covered almost all of it, making it hardly noticeable to anyone who didn't inspect his head very closely. It was still incredibly painful to the touch. It had been necessary for him to make a conscious effort to stop his habit of running his hands through his hair, as each new contact produced shock waves of pain that ripped through his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the ache in his head to reside. A fractured skull was not a fun injury to have.

Exiting the bathroom, he made his way over to his wardrobe. Upon opening it, he was greeted with the sight of his new school uniform. He smiled slightly. It was very similar to his St. George's uniform. It consisted of a white, long sleeved shirt with black trousers and a pair of dark leather shoes. The only real difference was the tie. Whilst the St. George's tie had been black and white, Ooarai's tie had green and white stripes, representative of the school's colours. James began to get dressed. Slipping on the trousers with some difficulty, he buttoned up his shirt and tucked it in. Doing up his tie, he laced up his shoes and went to look at himself in the mirror.

"Not bad." He whispered to himself casually. The trousers were a bit tight around his legs and the shoes were a bit too small for his feet, but it was good enough. He cast his mind back to when he had first tried on the uniform. His mother had been there. They must have spent hours in that shop trying to find the right size for him. James didn't really care what he wore. His mother was a different story. She was furious at the preposterous idea that they couldn't find shoes his size and the fact that nearly all of the trousers were out of stock. Worst of all, he had had to endure his mother trying to speak in Japanese to the store clerk, who was repeatedly telling her that he spoke perfect English and that there was no need. That had been a nightmare.

He took his phone off charge and glanced at the display. A number of messages from friends and family crowded his screen, wishing him luck on his first day. A name jumped out at him.

Connor Haskell.

He swiped right on the message to see what his old friend had sent him.

 _all the best for today mate, hope everything goes well. we're all missing you madly back here – school doesn't feel right without you man. come and visit us during the half–term will throw a mental party for you._

 _p.s. if there are any fit Japanese girls make sure you bring them too._

 _p.p.s. call me after school today, need to tell you about this Saunders High gal I met last week_

 _Con xx_

James couldn't help but smile. He suddenly felt a pang of regret. Had he made the right choice? He put such thoughts to the back of his mind and set about replying to Connor.

 _Cheers Con – means a lot man. absolutely shitting it right now, have no clue what today will be like - doesn't help that my Japanese is utter wank. Say hello to all the lads for me, am missing them all too._

James looked away from his phone as he thought of what to say next. His eyes came to rest on his clock. 07:52.

Shit.

He needed to be at school by 5 past. He quickly finished the message.

 _will call you tonight g, take care xx_

Pressing send he turned and picked up his school rucksack, which he packed last night. He wasn't going to have time for breakfast. He strode directly past his mini-kitchen and to the front door of his dormitory. He unlocked it, walked out, and shut it behind him.

He inhaled deeply. The air was fresh here. Quite a contrast to the polluted metropolitan city of London where he grew up. Connecting his headphones to his phone, he flicked through his playlist. He chose Mr Blue Sky by ELO. He walked down the stairs of the dormitory building as the guitar riff and drum roll he knew so well began to play.

"Classic." He murmured contently to himself.

Mr Blue Sky was certainly a fitting song. It was a glorious day. The celestial rays of the sun caressed his skin with their soft, warm fingers. There was not a cloud in the sky. As he strutted along to the beat of the drums, Jame couldn't help but smile.

As he came out onto the main road, he found himself part of a herd of hundreds of Ooarai students all making their way to school. Temporarily, James took out his headphones and looked around him as he walked. Teenage girls and boys from the ages of eleven through to eighteen surrounded him. The girls wore a white blouse with a black bow tied around the shoulders, each had a green miniskirt. They all came in different shapes and sizes, all the way from the miniscule first years to the eighth formers who were older than James himself. As he walked alongside different groups, he listened in on their conversations, hoping to test out his Japanese.

He couldn't understand a word they were saying.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Over the past month he had been desperately trying to learn as much Japanese as possible. Fortunately, most of the lessons at Ooarai were conducted in English, and nearly all the teachers spoke it. Nevertheless, James hated the idea of being completely clueless when it came to socialising. He had a tutor, Mr Adachi, with whom he had done hour long Japanese lessons every day since he had been given a place at Ooarai. He had certainly improved, but he was nowhere near being able to hold a conversation with someone. He could only hope that his fellow students were more competent at foreign languages than he was.

He noticed that he was beginning to attract some attention. Groups passing him would glance over at him, and then whisper secretively. Boys would quickly look over their shoulders at him with a confused expression. Some first years were less subtle, and just downright stared at him. Sighing deeply, James put his headphones on, and continued on his way to school.

* * *

He was nearing school when a girl spun past him. She appeared entranced by everything around her. She stared at a supermarket as if it was a revelation. James raised an eyebrow. Nearly all the girls he had seen so far travelled in groups of two or more, absorbed in their own conversations. This one was completely different, she walked alone, spellbound by the scenery around her. So mesmerized was she by her surroundings, that she didn't notice she was heading right for a lamppost.

"Hey!" James called out in warning. But he was too late. There was an audible clang as she walked into the metal pole.

Taking off his headphones, James jogged over to her.

"Jesus Christ! Are you alright mate?" She turned to look at him with a dazed expression. She shook her head and blinked several times, as if coming to her senses.

"Are you okay?" James spoke clearly. She stared him, her expression now one of confusion.

"Your head, is it…" It was then that James realised his mistake. "Ah fuck." He whispered to himself, proceeding to rack his brains for any Japanese phrase he could apply to the situation at hand.

"Daijobu… uhhhh…desu ka?" It was the first thing that came to his mind, he remembered Mr Adachi teaching it to him. It meant "Are you okay?" James repeated himself.

"Daijobu desu ka?" He absolutely butchered the pronunciation. Mentally, he cursed himself.

Fortunately for him, the girl appeared to have understood him in some way or another, her confused expression fading and being replaced with a subtle smile. She opened her mouth to reply.

"Watashi wa genki desu!" Aha! James knew what that meant: "I'm fine!" Finally, he may be making some progress in learning Japanese. The girl opened her mouth once more to speak. James listened closely. Reams of unintelligible speech proceeded to emanate from her mouth.

Nope, he was still absolutely fucked.

Suddenly she stopped and looked at him expectantly.

"Fuck. Fuck. What do I say?" James thought to himself, panicking internally. He went for the get out of jail free card that Mr Adachi had taught him; the classic "I have absolutely no fucking clue what you just said to me":

"Uhhhhh… wakarimasen?" The girl furrowed her brow in confusion once more.

"Well this is going fucking brilliantly." He thought.

"Ummm… Watashi wa… ni hon go… ga." It was actually painful for him to listen to himself try and tell this girl that his Japanese was appalling.

"amari… umaku." The girl looked at him now as though he was babbling incoherently. To be fair to her, she wasn't wrong.

"arimasen… is that right… arimasen?"

"With all respect, what exactly are you trying to say?" James looked down in shock. The girl looked up at him with her extraordinary light brown orbs, her expression was earnest.

"You… you speak English?" James stammered incredulously.

"Of course, I'm pretty good at it!" She smiled at him in a radiant fashion, her auburn hair illuminated by the morning sun. James couldn't help but think to himself:

"Fuck… she's… nice." He snapped himself out of his trance. He didn't want to embarrass himself any more than he had already.

"Ah. Well. I look like a massive idiot. I'm sorry my Japanese is just awful."

She laughed warmly.

"Don't worry! There was some good stuff in there, you just need more practice."

"Oh you're just saying that. By the way, is your head alright? That looked nasty." The girl reached up and rubbed her forehead.

"No, I'm fine. I was just being stupid. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Too busy admiring the scenery huh?" James turned to the supermarket and raised his arms in a biblical fashion. "It's truly glorious isn't it!"

"Are you being sarcastic?" The girl raised an eyebrow at him.

"Only slightly." She broke down into laughter. James couldn't help but grin.

"The name's James." He stuck out his hand.

"I'm Miho." The girl took it and shook. They smiled at each other. There was something about her that intrigued him. He had the strangest feeling that he couldn't pin down as he looked at her. She appeared somehow, familiar. He knew that he'd seen her before somewhere, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where.

Miho appeared to be sharing the same thought process.

"Have we met?" Her expression had shifted, she now squinted at him with slight suspicion.

"Uhhh… No?" The possibility of this girl recognising him from the final briefly flashed through his mind. Memories of people crowding around him, asking him what it was like to drown inside the cockpit of a Spitfire began to resurface, reminding him of the incident itself. He began to recount the moment he had broken, the moment he breathed in. He remembered how the water had filled up his lungs. He remembered the spasms his chest had went into. He remembered the fear as his oxygen starved heart strained and became weaker with every pump. He remembered the tendrils of blackness clouding his vision as he began to die.

"Uh, James? Are you ok?" The soft voice of Miho pulled him out of the darker places of his mind.

"Um… Yeah! Sure! I'm fine!" James forced a smile. The girl who called herself Miho appeared unconvinced. "Damn, would you look at the time! Don't want to be late on our first day huh?"

"Oh. Right!" The two turned and followed the crowd of pupils making their way to the school gates. James pulled out a map of the school he got during the induction day last Wednesday.

"Hey, do you know where the South Block is?"

"Oh, yeah, about that. I'm actually new to this school. I transferred this year, so this is my first day." Miho smiled at him apologetically.

"No way? You're the other transfer student!"

"Wait, you're a transfer student too?" Miho's face lit up. James frowned at her.

"No shit mate, I can't speak Japanese." Realisation dawned on Miho's face and she burst out laughing again.

"I should have known." She replied as her laughter resided once more.

"Why weren't you at the induction day last week then?" James quipped. The girl's happy aura appeared to be shattered by this question.

"Oh." She looked down at her feet. "I had some… family things to attend to." James noticed her sudden change of temperament.

"Well you didn't miss much, trust me. The tour guide didn't speak a word of English so we had to communicate through shitty sign language. Pretty sure I came out more confused than when I went in." Miho giggled.

"Why on earth did you choose to transfer to Japan if you're so rubbish at Japanese?"

"Oh. It was because of… family things… you know…" James dodged the question completely, looking away from the girl with the fringe of light brown hair. She seemed to understand.

"Do you know what mandatory elective you're going to take yet?" Miho quickly changed the subject.

"Well I saw one called Ninja. I have absolutely no idea what actually happens but I assume it's something to do with ninjas."

"That sound so cool! I'm going to do incense." The girl beamed at him.

"Incense? That sounds like schoolgirl code for "I'm going to do drugs."

"I think I'm starting to get your humour now." Miho announced with a grin.

"Hey, don't worry, I don't judge. By the way, what classes are you in?"

"Oh I won't be in any of yours." Miho said sadly.

"What? Why not?" James turned to her, confused.

"Because you're the year above me, right?" The girl asserted.

"Well I'm in sixth form so…"

"Wait what?" It was Miho's turn to be confused. "Were you held back a year or something?"

"What? No!" James replied incredulously. "I turn sixteen in two weeks."

"You're the same age as me?" Miho replied, unbelieving.

"Uh yeah?" The girl stopped and looked up at him.

"But you're like, big!" She gestured at him.

"Not really, you're just small." James replied with a smirk. Miho scowled at him, which soon turned into a smile.

"I'm not small." She huffed to herself. James chuckled.

"You're adorable." He joked as they continued on their way to school. Miho blushed ever so slightly.

"Oh shush. What classes are you in then?"

"Let me see. I'm shit at Maths so I'm in set 6. For Literature and Writing I'm in E-2 and for the sciences I'm in S-3."

"Nice! I'm in the same classes as you for both Science and Literature." Miho was radiating excitement.

"Thank God. You can be my translator."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure the Sciences and Mathematics are taught in English."

"So I guess I'm pretty fucked for Literature then." As the duo turned into the school gates they both laughed.

Ooarai High School was a large modern building with glass panes dominating the structure. Everything else was made out of perfectly clean orange brick layers. It was an immense compound with large open fields and courtyards. The area in front of the main school building was where a majority of the students appeared to be milling around, waiting for the first day of school to officially begin with registration. As the two transfer students walked through the various large gaggles of high school students, they began to attract attention.

"James, people are staring." Miho whispered to him, looking around anxiously.

"So?" James replied nonchalantly.

"Well, why are they staring at us?"

"Well firstly, we're both new, so that's something. Secondly, I'm from Her Royal Majesty's United Kingdom, so in terms of looks I don't exactly fit in well at a Japanese High School."

"You're from England?" Miho inquired.

"The accent didn't give it away huh?"

"You're certainly a long way from home."

They were interrupted by an announcement over the school intercom system. The voice of the school Headmaster boomed around the playground. James wished he knew what he was saying. It infuriated him to feel so clueless. Unwillingly, he turned to Miho.

"Would you mind?" The girl rolled her eyes. She translated the announcement to him.

"He says, 'Good morning and welcome back to all Students of Ooarai High School.' He wants us to make our way to our form rooms to be registered and then to go to the auditorium for a whole school assembly."

"Sounds like fun. Where's your form room at?" Without needing to consult her induction notes, Miho listed the details she had memorised.

"South Block, Level 3, Room 121. My form teacher is Mrs. Hashimoto. There are 27 of the 203 students in sixth form in my form room."

"Bloody hell, look at you." James mused, flicking through his induction folder.

"I actually know all of my form member's names, birthdays and blood types." James stopped scanning through his notes and looked up at a very smug Miho.

"You have way too much time on your hands. Did you say you were in South Block?"

"Yes I think so."

"Sick. My form room is right next to yours." Miho smiled broadly at this piece of information.

"Great! You can escort me there."

"What, am I some glorified body guard now?" Miho grabbed his hand and dragged him through the sliding doors and into the building.

As Miho guided him through the packed hallways, she looked back at him every so often, just to check he was still following her. Every time she glanced back and smiled, James became even more certain that he knew this girl from somewhere. Her name alone was familiar. Miho. Where did he know that name from?

Before he knew it, he was climbing the stairs to Level 3 in South Block. Soon enough, they had reached Room 121, Miho's form room. She turned and put on a voice of mock chivalry:

"Thank you very much for accompanying me to my form room, Mr…?" She looked at him expectantly. It took James some time to realise she wanted his last name.

"Oh… Wright." For a second, Miho looked at him with disconcerting seriousness. She seemed to shake away this expression and was back to her usual, good-natured self.

"Wright. James Wright." She tested the feel of the name with her mouth, going so far as to try and say it in a British Accent. "James Wright." Whilst Miho's English was astonishingly good, she was not up the standard where she could pull off convincing accents, so James' name came out as a mess of garbled syllables.

"I don't know what you were trying to do there but that was horrendous; please never butcher my name like that again." Miho dissolved into laughter. James couldn't help but follow suite.

"I guess I'll see you in assembly Mrs…?" It was James' turn to look expectantly at the girl stood in front of him. She was quicker to catch on than he had been.

"Nishizumi. Miho Nishizumi."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story. I apologise for my slow upload rate, I am very busy at the moment. Chapter 2 should be out soon. I would really appreciate it if you left a review with any suggestions or criticisms you have, so I can make this story as good as it could possibly be. Cheers for reading:)**


	5. Chapter 2

**Two**

Opening the door, James stepped into the classroom. His ears were accosted by a cacophony of chatter from the students inhabiting the room. As he made his way to his desk, this chatter began to die down, replaced by curious whispers. He ignored the sudden silence as he set his bag down on his desk, situated at the back of the classroom, and began to unpack his folders. At the desk directly next to him, a boy wearing glasses looked up from his book. James glanced down at him, catching his eye. The two looked at each other for a while. The Japanese boy nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement. The British boy followed suite. Both then went back to what they were doing before.

It was not until he sat down that he clocked all eyes were on him. A group of twenty or so students, boys and girls alike were staring at him, their expressions ranging from confusion to intrigue. James scanned the classroom, meeting numerous pairs of eyes. He slowly nodded to them all in recognition, and proceeded to take out his phone and begin flicking through his messages.

Gradually, the students seemed to accept his presence, and went back to their own conversations, stealing glances at the strange foreigner every now and then. Without warning, the door was forced open, and three boys barged in laughing and jeering at each other loudly. They began to make their way to the back of the classroom, greeting the other boys already sat down conversing with each other as they went by. They stopped at one particular desk and began talking with a small kid with a bowl of dark – hair. Halfway through this conversation, the kid turned around in his seat and pointed at James, speaking rapidly. The three boys slowly turned to face the transfer student, who was now slumped in his seat in a relaxed fashion. All three of their expressions seemed to change simultaneously from one of mirth, to one of suspicion and hostility. They looked at each other, and then back at James. One of them grinned at the other two, turned on his heels, and began to walk towards him. The entire class fell silent once more. Noticing him, James looked up from his phone and watched the boy intently as he approached him. He was fairly short, but he looked strong, his shirt was certainly too tight for him. His dark hair was styled into a quiff. His demeanour was definitely threatening. James clenched his jaw. He had been in fights before, an incident against the Belfast Academy in Ireland popped into his head. After a particularly unpleasant and hostile match, including a large quantity of aircraft ramming (which was technically illegal), tensions had overrun back on the ground. He remembered Monty walking straight up to the Belfast Squadron Commander and slamming his fist into his nose. It had all escalated from there, three boys including one from St. George's had been obliged to go to hospital to receive stitches for injuries sustained during this particular punch up. James was not a small lad by any means. He could definitely fend for himself. Despite this, he recognised that getting into a fist-fight with a classmate less than ten minutes into his time at Ooarai High School would not go down well with the Headmaster, nor his parents for that matter. Also, this guy was pretty big himself. James actually didn't back his chances against him. He was Japanese too, so he could have some sort of martial arts skill under his belt. James had seen the Karate Kid. He decided to play it cool.

The boy stopped in front of his desk. He folded his arms and scowled at James.

"Antadare?"

His voice was deep and accusatory. James barely even registered what he said. Under the table, he clenched his fists.

"Antadare?"

He spoke louder this time. It was less of a question, and more of an allegation, as if he was accusing him of some crime. James felt adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. The boy turned to his two friends and said something in Japanese. Both of them burst of laughing, as did many other members of the class. He turned back to James, raising his arms in exasperation. Leaning forward, he put his hands on his desk.

"Antadare?" This time, he spoke very slowly, as if to a baby. James racked his brains for any expression Mr Adachi had taught him that sounded remotely similar to what the boy standing mere centimetres away from him was now saying.

"He wants to know who you are." Both James and the boy standing in front of him turned in the direction of the voice. The boy he had locked eyes with several minutes ago stared back at them, book still in hand.

"He wants to know who I am?" James confirmed, his voice shaky and uncertain.

"Yes. I believe that's what I just said."

"Thank fuck." James thought. "He speaks English." His thinking process was interrupted by a long stream of harsh sounding language from the boy standing in front of him, directed at the lad with the jet – black crop of hair. He put his book down, gesturing at James he spoke at an equally rapid pace. The other boy replied, raising his voice and throwing out his hands in indignation. James felt absolutely helpless, he had no idea what was going on. Never had he wanted to speak fluent Japanese as much as he did now. Suddenly, the boy standing in front of him turned back to him.

"You are from England, yeh?" He had a heavy accent in comparison to the boy sat to his right, however he was still easily understandable.

"Uh… Yes." James paused. He realised all his classmates were still staring at him. He rarely felt self-conscious, but he certainly did now.

"You are transfer student?" He looked more intrigued than menacing now.

"Um… Yeah."

"You not speak Japanese?" He asked raising an eyebrow. The intimidating demeanour was pretty much gone now, James began to relax.

"A bit, I'm still learning." Suddenly he remembered another phrase Mr Adachi had taught him in case he ran into trouble whilst talking to classmates. "Watashi wa nihongo… wo benkyou… shiteimasu." Despite pausing a couple times, his pronunciation was pretty good, if he didn't say so himself. The boy nodded his head in approval.

"It is hard language to learn, yeh?" He grinned at James. Another phrase came to mind, courtesy of Mr Adachi. He replied:

"Watashi wa nihongo… ga heta hetadesu". He was still god-fucking awful at it, but at least he was getting more confident. The boy understood too, which was a bonus. Hell, he even began to laugh. Not the accusatory, hostile laugh from earlier, but a kinder, heartier laugh. James found himself smiling.

"Anata no onamae wa?" James recognised the question phrase for a name quickly.

"Watashi no namae wa James Wright desu." He had practiced that phrase in the mirror back in his dormitory at least a thousand times.

"Ah, James Wright. Is a good name."

"Gee… uhh… Arigatou gozaimasu." The boy laughed amiably.

"My name is Kaito. Kaito Yamaguchi." He turned to his two friends and called them over. Both of them trudged towards James' desk warily. One of them was just shorter than him, he had a slight frame and a face dominated by his prominent cheekbones, emphasised by the fact that he possessed a buzz-cut. The other boy was big, about six foot two, broad-shouldered and thick-set. He had a mass of coarse black hair that hung dishevelled around his forehead. Despite his intimidating stature, he had a kind face, and smiled at James as he reached his desk. Kaito announced something to them in his effortlessly fluid dialect. James heard his name somewhere amongst the rapid flow of words. The two boys looked from Kaito and then to the strange looking transfer student seated in front of them. The big one was the first to speak.

"Koji Ishikawa. It is great to meet you." He grinned widely, sticking out his hand. James pushed his seat back, rising to his feet.

"I'm James Wright. The pleasure's all mine." He smiled back at the boy, taking his hand and shaking.

"I have a cousin who lives in England, I visited him last year. It is a very nice place." He paused for a second, and pondered. "It rains a lot though." This caused James to chortle.

"Yeah, we're not exactly known for our good weather." Koji laughed cheerfully. He was about to say something in reply but was interrupted by the boy with the buzz-cut, who stuck out his arm stiffly.

"Tatsuo Miyamoto."

"Nice to meet you Tatsuo." James grasped his hand and smiled at him. He did not return the expression, instead, he stared at him in a dubious fashion.

"Where in England are you from?" He inquired, his eyes scanning over James, as if he was assessing him. His gaze was intense and unyielding.

"Ah… I'm from London."

"What school did you move from?"

"Um… Well I was at… St George's."

"Why did you leave?"

"Well… It's quite a long…" James was interrupted by Kaito.

"Oh fuck off Tatsuo, it is too early for all these questions." Kaito turned to James. "It is ok if we sit around here?" He gestured to the three desks to James' left.

"Oh yeah mate, of course, go for it." Kaito smirked.

"Thanks… mate." He tried to copy James' accent. It was pretty awful, but at least it was better than Miho's impression had been.

"Not a minute in and your already taking the piss, huh?" James replied with a grin.

"You had better get used to it." Koji sighed as he set his bag down. "Kaito thrives on really bad humour." They were all disconcertingly good English speakers, but Koji was clearly the best of them all. That might have something to do with the cousin that lived in Britain. James would have to ask him about that. He glanced to the boy on his right. He was once again completely absorbed in his book. The rest of the class appeared to have gone back to their own conversations once more. James leant over and tapped the boy on the shoulder.

"Hey… thanks for saving my arse back there. I had absolutely no idea what he was asking me." James put on a half – smile. The boy set down his book and turned to face him.

"That's alright. I understand how hard it is to learn a new language, I lived for a few years in America." Now that he said it, James did notice an American lilt to his accent.

"Really? Where did you live?"

"I stayed in Florida, around Orlando." He had dark brown eyes and a pair of black eyebrows that were prominent against his pale complexion.

"No way! I was in Florida in April." The boy looked over at him and took off his glasses, laying them down on his book.

"What were you doing there?"

"Oh, I was looking round schools in the area." James realised what he had said too late. Why couldn't he have just used the holiday excuse?

"Why were you looking round schools in April?"

"Well… why not?"

"Because April is term time. Shouldn't you have been in school?" The boy was looking intently at James now. He recognised that look. It was the same look Miho had given him when he told her his name. Did he suspect something? James had to throw him off.

"Oh… uh… I was expelled from my old school."

"Why?" James racked his brains for a good reason as to why he may have been expelled. He blurted out the first thing that popped into his head:

"Drugs."

Well played James. Well fucking played.

"Drugs?" The boy looked at him incredulously.

"Yeah, hardcore drugs."

Silence fell between them as the boy stared at him dumbfounded. He felt like punching himself in the face.

"I'm James by the way." He stuck out his hand.

"Uhhhh…" The boy paused and stared at the outstretched hand.

"Brilliant, I've convinced him I'm a drug dealer." James thought to himself. "I actually want to die."

Finally, the boy seemed to accept his ridiculous cover – story. He took his hand and shook it.

"Reo Harada."

"Nice to meet you Reo."

"What kind of drugs?" The boy interrupted him, he appeared to be interested now.

"Uhhh... what?"

"What drugs did you sell?"

"Oh... you know... weed and..." James was lost for words. As he desperately thought of something else to say, the conversation he had had with Miho earlier popped into his head:

"And uhhh... incense." The boy stared at him, bewildered.

"Incense isn't a drug."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't. Incense is aromatic biotic material which releases fragrant smoke when burned..."

"It's a street name mate." James interrupted him. Reo seemed to accept this, but continued to look at him suspiciously.

"I've seen you before."

"I think you're mistaken Reo." James gritted his teeth.

"No I definitely have. What's your second name?"

James was incredibly thankful as his form teacher, Mr Okamoto strolled into the classroom, causing silence to fall. He barked a few orders in Japanese at some students in the front row. Kaito leaned over to James.

"That's Mr Okamoto. He's a… how do you say it in English?"

"A cunt." Koji cut in. James stifled a laugh.

"Alright everyone!" The man had a very heavy Japanese accent. "Line up against door. I register you and then we go to assembly." There was a collective screeching as students pushed their chairs back and stood up. James avoided the gaze of Reo. He stood with Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo as the students began to file out of the classroom.

"When did you start learning Japanese?" Tatsuo asked. He still appeared to be slightly cynical of James.

"About two months ago. I learnt a bit in school though."

"You're lucky English is compulsory for students from first year here." So that's why they're all so good. He wished Japanese had been compulsory from first year at St. George's. It would have made his life a hell of a lot easier right now.

"Ah, you'll be fine." Kaito slapped him on the shoulder. "All the important lessons are given in English anyways." Koji seemed to think for a moment.

"Wait… why?" Kaito pondered.

"Well… uhhh… come to think of it…" He was interrupted.

"English is the second most spoken language in the world. It's mandatory for the Sciences and Mathematics to be conducted in English to allow for more efficient international co-operation in the future." Reo declared, leaning casually against the wall as they waited in line to be registered.

"Classic Reo." Koji mused, rolling his eyes. "The man's a fucking walking dictionary." Reo looked up and down at the big lad standing in front of him.

"Have you put on some weight over the summer Koji?" Koji's grin disappeared from his face.

"Careful Reo." Kaito warned.

"Are you calling me fat?" Koji frowned at Reo.

"No. Not fat, just a little round around the edges." Koji glared at the boy. Tatsuo and Kaito sniggered. James grinned. Whilst Koji wasn't necessarily fat, he wasn't slim by any means. Koji folded his arms and turned his nose up at Reo.

"Well I have no idea what you're talking about. I carry my weight." Both Tatsuo and Kaito coughed into their hands in an obvious fashion. "What?!" Koji threw up his hands in indignation. "Stop fat – shaming me!"

The entire group broke down into laughter as they reached the door, Koji included.

"Quiet! Ah… Yamaguchi, Ishikawa and Miyamoto, what did I do to have you put in my class." The middle – aged balding form teacher turned to James.

"Who do we have here. You must be transfer student. I understand your Japanese is bad."

"Word travels fast round these parts." James mumbled to himself.

"In his defence Sir, he's not that bad. I had a conversation with him earlier." Kaito announced earnestly.

"I don't care. Get to assembly,"

The five boys pushed through the door, and began making their way to the auditorium. The school hall was once again swarming with students.

"James!" He spun around in the direction in which his name had been called. He caught sight of Miho waving to him across the bustling sea of students. James smiled and waved back.

"Well, well, well… Who is that James?" Kaito asked in a loud voice.

"I didn't take you for a ladies' man J!" Koji jeered slapping him on the back

"Oh bugger off, she's the other transfer student, I ran into her this morning."

"Who is she?" Tatsuo inquired.

"Name's Miho apparently."

"You'd better introduce us to her." Kaito remarked, eyeing up the girl standing across the hallway. "She is nice…"

"Kaito stop being a fucking creep." Koji spat.

"Besides, it looks like James has got to her first anyway." Tatsuo commented, causing the group to laugh.

"By all means Kaito, go ahead. I'm not stopping you." James glared at Tatsuo. They had reached the doors to the auditorium. There was a maul of over excited students struggling to fit through the doors.

"Don't worry James. I won't steal your girl, at least not this time." Kaito winked at him. Koji rolled his eyes.

"Cheers for that."

These lads weren't half-bad.


	6. Chapter 3

The morning had been an absolute nightmare for James. Each lesson he had been forced to come up to the front of the class and introduce himself (in Japanese, which made it even worse). Frankly, it would have been unbearable if it hadn't been for the new friends he had made, Kaito, Koji, Tatsuo and Reo. They had sat with each other in nearly every class they had together. Their constant bickering and banter had been a great source of entertainment for him, and had practically got him through the morning lessons.

He stood by his desk in Chemistry, the last lesson before lunch. He was in the middle of conducting a practical experiment to obtain a pure sample of a soluble salt using titration. Using a burette, he was pouring drops of an alkali into the beaker containing the acid. His lab partner was staring intently at the solution, a determined expression on her face.

"Miho, I swear you're supposed to be shaking it." Not taking her eyes off the beaker in front of her, the auburn-haired girl replied.

"Not yet, only when it begins to go pink." James shrugged.

"If you say so." The pair continued in silence. He soon found himself staring at Miho. Her face was scrunched up in concentration. He couldn't help but think to himself how adorable she looked. James immediately forced such thoughts to the back of his mind. He had barely known this girl for longer than four hours.

"And… Stop!" Miho suddenly called to him as the solution began to turn pink. James fumbled with the burette, cutting off the supply of alkali to the solution. "How much was that?" She looked up at him earnestly.

"Uhh..." James scanned the chemical instrument. "Eight point nine millilitres." Miho looked at him inquisitively.

"Are you sure?" He looked down at her, shock written on his face.

"You don't trust me?!"

"No it's not that! I just don't imagine you as the most…" The girl pondered for a moment. "Competent person."

"Why would you say something like that?" Miho smirked.

"You're attending a Japanese school and you can't speak Japanese." James stared at the girl, who was now grinning at him smugly.

"Whilst that may be a good point I am still thoroughly offended by your lack of faith in me." He crossed his arms in mock anger.

"So… what was the measurement again?" Miho asked complacently.

"Eight point nine millilitres, take it or leave it." The girl raised her eyebrows at him. James threw his arms up in exasperation. "Look for yourself mate!" The girl glanced over at the burette.

"I can't." She announced.

"And why is that?"

"You set it up too high, I can't get an accurate reading." James smiled in a smug fashion.

"Invest in a pair of stilts then." Miho cocked her head at him, displeased. "Or, I don't know, grow or something, not my fault you're short." He grinned at her. She sighed, suppressing a smile, and turned to her practical sheet. Mumbling indignantly something about her not being short, she wrote down 8.9 millilitres.

"There we go, that wasn't so hard." Miho was about to reply when the bell rang, signalling the end of the fifth lesson and the start of lunch.

"Lunch?" She quipped.

"Sure, didn't have time for breakfast today so I'm practically dying of hunger."

Thanking their teacher, the pair left the classroom, and began to make their way to the lunch hall alongside reams of other students.

"I think I made some friends in my maths class today!" Miho suddenly blurted out in an excited fashion.

"Oh really? Who?"

"These two really nice girls, Takebe Saori and Isuzu Hana! They said they would meet me for lunch, we can all eat together!" The girl smiled excitedly. James opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a shout from down the corridor.

"Oi, J!" Standing at least a head taller than everyone else, Koji was quite difficult to miss. Giving him a wave, James turned back to Miho, who was looking fairly bewildered.

"Speaking of new mates, I met some people in my form room this morning." Gesturing for her to follow, James made his way over to the group consisting of Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo.

"You alright guys."

"Hey James, and who is this?" Kaito responded, eyeing up Miho. James glanced over at Miho, who looked slightly uncomfortable. Something she had said in an earlier conversation popped into his mind, the fact that she had transferred from an all girl's school. Evidently, she wasn't used to big groups of boys. James took charge.

"This is Miho Nishizumi. She's the other transfer student." Kaito looked at her for a while before rapidly speaking in Japanese. Miho looked surprised at first, then gave a smile and said something back equally quickly, and to James, equally unintelligible. Tatsuo interjected, gesturing at James and then her, to which Miho looked suddenly embarrassed, swiftly replying with a torrent of speech. James looked from Miho, and then back at the group of boys.

"Are you talking shit about me?" He asked earnestly.

The group broken down into laughter.

"Come on, I need food." Koji begged, turning and making his way into the lunch hall. The group followed.

"That's questionable." Tatsuo muttered to James.

* * *

The food at this place was nice enough, although it consisted of pretty much nothing but fish, fish and more fish. James was not impartial to fish, but he knew he was going to get fed up of it after a while.

He sat himself down at a big table with Tatsuo, Kaito and Koji. He noticed someone was missing.

"Hey guys, where's Reo at?" Kaito grimaced as he put his chopsticks down.

"Ah… yeah… the thing is. Reo isn't really…" He was interrupted by Tatsuo.

"Reo's weird." Nonchalantly, he went back to his mackerel.

"That's not fair Tats!" Koji interjected indignantly. "He's a nice enough guy, he's just… not a people person, I guess…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tatsuo replied, looking up with a baffled expression on his face.

"Does he like, not have many friends?"

"Exactly. Like he spends all of his lunchtimes inside a classroom reading magazines about…" Koji was interrupted by Kaito who appeared to have spotted someone. He called over across the lunch-hall in a fluid stream of speech. James looked up to see Miho making her way over to him accompanied by two girls. One appeared tall and graceful with long, flowing dark hair that almost made its way down to her waist. She had soft, silvery irises that added to the kind expression on her face. The other girl was slightly shorter, with ginger hair that cascaded down to her shoulders and caramel brown eyes. She wore black thigh highs, her generally stylish appearance distinguishing her from the others.

They set their trays down opposite James, as Miho circled the table and sat down next to him. The girl with the dark hair smiled warmly at him whilst the one with the ginger hair observed him with slight confusion. Opening her mouth, she asked him something in her effortless yet unintelligible native language. Suddenly, she stopped, and looked at him expectantly. James, utterly helpless, turned to Miho for help. Rolling her eyes, she gestured to him and said something to the ginger haired girl in Japanese. She looked from Miho to James as she spoke. Slowly, a smile spread across her face.

"Finally! I get to practise my English." She spoke with a light accent, yet it seemed almost natural to her. James couldn't believe what he was hearing, he had been under the impression that he would be the only student here who spoke English. So far, he had been able to communicate with nearly everyone he had met (with some help from Koji who acted as a translator in difficult situations). The girl was speaking again.

"Hello, I'm Saori Takebe. What's your name?" She was a bubbly and jovial personality.

"James. James Wright."

"James Wright. That's a cute name!" Cute? Was that a good thing? The girl turned to her friend. "What do you think Hana?" The girl with the long, black hair pondered for a moment. Then, she spoke.

"I think it's an excellent name." Jesus Christ. There had literally been no point in going to those Japanese sessions during the summer.

"I'm Hana Isuzu by the way." She spoke softly and eloquently, her accent was noticeable but she still appeared thoroughly sophisticated.

"Pleasure to meet you two." James put on a smile for both of them. Saori giggled and said something to Miho, once again using her native tongue. She looked at Saori with a confused expression and opened her mouth to say something back, but was cut off by Kaito.

"So! What brings you two to Ooarai?" James gripped his chopsticks so hard they nearly began to splinter in his hand. In his peripheral vision he could see Miho suddenly shrink into herself. He felt obliged to answer first. He made sure to not use the same excuse as he did for Reo. He didn't want these people to think he was some sort of druggie.

"My Dad works for some big technological firm, he got transferred to Japan a couple months ago. Honestly, it's pretty boring." The group seemed to accept the cover story with nods and smiles. He glanced over to Miho who was looking at him suspiciously.

"What about you Miho?" Saori asked, directing everyone's attention to her. "Why did you move to Ooarai?"

"Um… Well…" Miho shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes fixed on the tray in front of her.

"Did something bad happen with your family?" Hana interjected. "Family infighting or something related to an inheritance maybe?"

"No, nothing like that…"

"Did your parents get transferred to a different office, like James?" Saori suggested, gesturing to him with her chopsticks. Miho didn't answer. Instead, she hung her head dejectedly. James could see her eyes were partially shut, as if she were silently reliving an experience from the past. The whole table grew silent. Recognising Miho's unwillingness to talk about the subject, Hana spoke up.

"We should eat before everything gets cold." The group murmured in approval and resumed conversation over their meals. As they conversed, James couldn't help but feel slightly confused. What on earth had happened to Miho to make her want to transfer to Ooarai? It must have been quite the unpleasant experience to make her react in such a way. Still, he couldn't help but feel slightly wary of her. There was just something about her. Had he met her sometime in the past? He had definitely seen her somewhere before. He made a mental note to himself: Search up Miho Nishizumi on the internet when he got home.

* * *

Lunchtime was coming to a close. James sat chatting with Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo in their form room. He held a small sheet of paper in his hand detailing the various mandatory electives Ooarai offered.

"What did you choose last year, Koji?" He asked, holding the card up to his face.

"Eating." Tatsuo mused, flicking through one of his folders.

"Alright, listen up here you little…" Koji reached for a pen and chucked it at Tatsuo. Unfortunately, he was far too quick, and easily dodged the projectile. The pen sailed across the room and collided with the blackboard at the front of the classroom. Everyone in the group bar Koji burst out laughing.

"Baka." He whispered under his breath whilst suppressing a smirk.

Without warning, the door swung open. It slammed against the wall as a group of five people strolled authoritatively into the room. Kaito immediately put his hand on James' shoulder.

"Sit up straight." He whispered urgently. James obeyed, turning in his seat to face the five people now standing at the front of the classroom. Everyone had fallen silent. All of his fellow classmates had their eyes trained on the group standing in front of them. They all appeared to be senior students of ages seventeen to eighteen, apart from one who looked as though she still belonged in primary school. Her diminutive stature didn't seem to affect her confidence whatsoever as she proudly stood, hands on hips in the middle of the other four, scanning the classroom.

"Who's that?" James whispered.

"Student council." Kaito replied, not taking his eyes off them. "The little one is Anzu Kadotani, she's the President."

"She's top dog round here." Koji added, a slightly fearful expression on his face. Her eyes came to rest on James. A devious smile appeared on her face as she locked eyes with him.

"Wright!" She called across the room to him. With a flick of her reddish-brown hair, she began to stride towards him. The others followed. Koji put his arm around James.

"Rest in Peace man." He whispered earnestly.

"Kon'nichiwa Wright!" James almost jumped in his seat as he turned to see the small red-head standing inspecting him.

"Uh… kon'nichiwa…"

"I'm Anzu, the President of the Ooarai Student Council." Her voice was loud and boisterous. James was shocked that so much attitude could be present in someone so small.

"As the leading members of the student council," she gestured to the others standing around her, "we just wanted to let you know that we are so pleased you decided to join us here at Ooarai." Whilst her English was almost perfect, her tone was evidently cynical and mischievous, as though she had some ulterior motive behind each word. Her coppery-brown eyes sparkled with vigour, no matter her minute size she was without doubt an authoritative figure.

"We need to talk for a moment." A girl with short black hair and dark eyes interjected. She wore a single eyeglass. Next to her stood another girl with dark brown eyes and hair of the same colour tied into a pony tail. To the right stood two boys. One was an imposing figure, with short cropped jet black hair and dark irises. The other seemed of a more kind temperament, his dark brown hair and eyes were accompanied by a smile. James suddenly realised the group were staring at him expectantly.

"Uh, can we do it here?"

"No. Come outside." The boy with jet black hair turned and the rest followed. The small girl called Anzu gestured for him to follow. James looked around at his friends and was greeted with sympathetic expressions. Sighing deeply, he stood up, and followed the Student Council members out of the room.

* * *

"So… Wright. What were you planning on doing for your Mandatory Elective this year?" The boy with the jet black hair was speaking again. He had introduced himself as Touma Watanabe, head of Administration in the School Council. James had wanted to ask what this job actually entailed, as it appeared as though teachers handled most of the administrative duties in the school, but he knew better. He didn't want to piss these people off, they seemed quite important in the context of Ooarai.

"Well… I guess "Ninja" seemed pretty cool so I was going to…" He was cut off as Anzu came up behind him and put her arm over his shoulder. As she was more than an entire foot shorter than him, she had to physically pull him down to her level. Despite her minute qualities, she was surprisingly strong. James was forced down into something resembling a crouching position. She put her arm around his shoulders in an amicable fashion and began to talk.

"You see Wright, as you're new and everything the Student Council decided we wanted to make your life at Ooarai as exciting as possible! So… after a lot of thought and planning, we found the perfect elective just for you!" Anzu flashed a big grin at him. Carefully taking hold of her arm and prising it away from his neck, James stood back up.

"Look, Anzu, I'm really grateful that you're looking out for me and everything, but I've already decided. I'm going to do…" James was interrupted by Touma.

"You're going to do Dogfighting."

He froze.

"What?"

"Dogfighting!" Anzu reiterated. "You know, the one with the planes and the guns and stuff. It's awesome!"

"We hear that you're pretty good at it." The girl with the dark brown hair who had been introduced as Yuzu Koyama spoke up, a friendly smile on her face.

"Yeah. Apparently your school got to the finals of the International Championships earlier this year!" The brown eyed boy by the name of Yuuto Fujimori was buzzing with excitement.

"So just make sure that you sign up for Dogfighting for your Mandatory Elective." The girl with the stern expression known as Momo Kawashima asserted, a frown present on her face as she glared at him. James opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the ear-piercing shriek of the school bell, indicating the end of lunchtime. Students began to file out of the various classrooms and soon the hallway was flooded. The members of the Student Council turned on their heels and began to walk away. James wanted to run after them, but found himself stuck to the spot, his limbs turned to stone. He forced himself to call after them.

"Wait!" Anzu turned to face him. "I thought Ooarai didn't have a Dogfighting team. That was the whole reason I came here!" He had to shout over the din of the hundreds of students now bustling through the hallway.

"Well we do now! See you around Wright!" With a big grin Anzu bounded off and was soon lost in the sea of pupils.

"No." He attempted to shout back to her. All that came out was a hoarse, pathetic whisper.

All he could do was stand there. People jostled past him, elbowing and pushing him in the process. He didn't react. He couldn't react. He didn't feel anything. Except… numb. He felt so numb. His chest felt tight, breathing was becoming a difficult task.

Shit.

It began to come back to him.

Shit.

The shock of the sudden cold. The desperate attempts to get out. The moment he had broken. The moment he had dared to take a breath. The unnatural feeling of water forcing its way down his trachea. The awful convulsions of his chest as it began to fill his lungs.

He had made a promise to himself. He would never set foot in another cockpit ever again. He would never Dogfight again.

He wouldn't.

He couldn't.


	7. Chapter 4

It had been nearly thirty minutes and James still hadn't arrived at Room 109 for his period six History lesson. Kaito kept stealing glances at the classroom's clock and then turning to the empty desk beside him. Discreetly, he pulled out his phone and scanned the display. Nothing from him. He turned to a very anxious Koji.

"Where's James at?"

"I don't know!" Koji's hushed tones failed to mask his genuine concern. "Last time I saw him he was talking with the Student Council. He never came back into the form room after that."

"Do you think he got lost?" Kaito inquired.

"No." Tatsuo interjected. "He's not stupid, he's got a map anyways. Something's happened to him."

"What do you mean something's happened to him?!" Exasperated, Koji raised his voice.

"Mr Ishikawa, is there a problem?" The History teacher eyed him in an accusatory fashion.

"No sir, sorry." He replied meekly, shrinking back down into his seat. The trio seated at the back of the class were quiet for a moment.

"What do you think the Student Council said to him?" Tatsuo quietly speculated.

"I don't know." Kaito trailed off. He looked over once more at the empty desk. Inadvertently, he locked eyes with a person sitting on the other side of the vacant seat.

"Psst. Reo." Kaito spoke quietly but urgently. He put his pen down carefully before turning back to face him.

"Yeah?"

"When was the last time you saw James?" He pondered for a moment.

"Last time I saw him was at the end of lunch. He went into the Main Block toilets I think."

"Did he look alright?" Koji leant over. Reo thought again.

"No. Very pale… Although he is a white dude so that might just be…" Kaito turned away from Reo, ignoring him.

"I'm going to look for him." Before Koji or Tatsuo could protest, he put his hand up.

"Sir, please may I go to the toilet?" The short – sighted History teacher frowned.

"You should have gone during lunchtime Mr Yamaguchi."

"Sorry sir, but I really need to go." The old Professor sighed heavily, defeated.

"Alright, be quick." Kaito leapt out of his seat and speed-walked to the door. Koji suddenly threw his arm in the air.

"Sir, I need to go to the toilet too please." The teacher looked stunned.

"Mr Ishikawa, you have interrupted my lesson twice so far today and now you decide you wish to delay your learning further by taking a toilet break?!" He concluded his haughty tirade by casting an indignant glare at the offender.

"Please sir, I'm desperate. I haven't gone all day."

"Me too, sir." Tatsuo put his hand up too. The poor history teacher looked absolutely horrified at the mutiny occurring before him. Letting out a heavy breath of exasperation, he gave in.

"Fine, both of you go, but be quick about it." Both Koji and Tatsuo jumped up from their chairs and made their way out of the classroom.

"Hey, Kaito!" Koji called after him as they jogged to catch up.

"Where are we off to?" Tatsuo asked.

"We're finding James. Reo last saw him in the Main Block toilets, so we start by looking there."

And so the search party went on their way, beginning their mission to find their missing friend.

* * *

James had spent much of the past half-hour retching over one of the school toilets. After his meeting with the student council, he had immediately made his way to the lavatories. He hadn't had a panic attack for a long time since the incident. They were a rare occurrence for him now. Nevertheless, when he did get them, they were not pleasant, especially as he had a tendency to vomit uncontrollably. His primary objective had been to avoid refurnishing the school halls with the contents of his stomach. He now sat crouched over one of the toilets counting his breaths.

In. One. Two.

Out. One. Two.

This couldn't be happening. This had to be some sort of nightmare. The only reason he had come to this school was to escape Dogfighting. He had left England behind to give him an opportunity to forget the horrendous incident that plagued his mind daily. Every time the sport was mentioned the memory of that harrowing day reverberated painfully through his mind. James swore as he suppressed another retch.

All he wanted was to forget. He hated Dogfighting. What a stupid fucking sport. Why had he ever liked it? It was dangerous, violent and had very nearly cost him everything. It had ruined his life. Torn his friends away from him. Forced him halfway across the world in a futile effort to get away from its influence. Even now he couldn't escape it. He felt so utterly helpless.

"FUCKING STUPID!" Abruptly he cursed at the top of his voice, slamming his hand against the wall of the cubicle. The sound of the impact echoed around the sanitary, tiled walls of the room, progressively becoming weaker and weaker until it faded away entirely.

James slumped back against the door of the cubicle, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them. He felt involuntary tears begin to form in his eyes.

His Father was of an old-fashioned mentality and had always abhorred him crying. He had drilled it into him that it was a form of weakness; that English boys should always put on a stiff upper lip and soldier on. He hardly ever allowed himself to shed tears, but what was the point in holding back now? After all, his Father was over 6,000 miles away.

He began to quietly cry. Tears flowed in torrents down his face as he began to let it all out. All of that pent up rage, the pain, the unfairness of it, the effect of the trauma on his body and mind he now unleashed in the form of tears. He cried until his tear ducts were dry and his eyes were red. After what felt like an hour, he stopped.

Taking deep breaths, he made himself stand up. How long had he been here? He pulled out his phone.

15:46

He swore out loud. He had missed his entire History lesson, one of the few subjects he actually enjoyed. How was he going to explain this to his teacher? Excuses began to formulate in his mind ranging from illness to a failure to navigate the complex maze of Ooarai High School. To be fair, it was an enormous building. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned to face the cubicle door. Feeling mildly rejuvenated after his crying session he calmed his shaking hands, unlocked the door and stepped outside.

He was immediately faced by a blonde haired boy with tear – stained cheeks and eyes tainted red.

Jesus, he looked awful.

James approached the mirror. Using the sinks below it; he began to wash his face.

Without warning, the door sprung open and three figures rushed in. He quickly recognised them.

"James?" Relief was visible on Koji's face as he caught sight of him. He strode over to him and pulled him into a bear hug.

"Thank god, I was fucking worried about you!" James felt his ribs being slowly crushed.

"Koji… too tight!" He croaked.

"Fuck's sake Koji let him go, you're killing the poor guy!" As the big lad released him, the smiling face of Kaito came into his view. Next to him stood Tatsuo with his arms crossed and what could be interpreted as a worried expression on his face.

"Where the hell have you been man? You've missed all of History." Koji was speaking again. He looked closer at James. "Wait…" His voice took on a more serious tone. "Have you been crying?"

"What… nah…" James trailed off, averting his face from Koji's view.

"Don't lie to me, your eyes are all red."

"James, what's happened? It's nothing serious is it?" Kaito appeared next to him.

"Ah, don't worry about it mate. It's just some stupid…" He was cut off by Tatsuo.

"You can tell us you know. We're your friends."

"Yeah, we look after each other." Koji added.

"Was it something the Student Council said to you?" Kaito looked inquisitively at him as he used the sink to stabilise himself. James realised he wasn't getting out of this room without having to explain everything to these three.

"The Student Council want me to take up Dogfighting." He attempted to speak flippantly.

"What?" Koji frowned in confusion. "Dogfighting? The one with the planes and…"

"Yes. The one with the planes."

"I thought Ooarai didn't have Dogfighting as an elective, same with that one with the Tanks." Tatsuo stated.

"Tankery. And, yeah, Ooarai don't have a team." There was silence for several seconds.

"Well… what's wrong with that?" Kaito began. "I've watched Dogfighting on TV before. Flying planes is pretty fucking cool, probably gets you loads of girls too." He and the other two chuckled light-heartedly; James found he could not.

"J, seriously, what's the problem? If I'm honest, I've always wanted to try out Dogfighting. We could all do it together. Imagine that. We could have our own squad. We'd be unbeatable!" Koji began to get very excited.

"It does sound pretty good." Tatsuo seemed to approve.

"Yeah. Let's do it J!" Koji affirmed. Kaito looked at James with a troubled expression.

"Koji. Stop. He doesn't want to." He turned back to the dismal visage of his friend. "James, what happened?" There was no point in trying to hide it now. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain.

"I come from a family who are pretty big into their aircraft. My father, my grandfather and so on all served in the Royal Air Force, and pretty much all of them were world class Dogfighters. Before I transferred to Ooarai I went to a school called St George's. It's one of the best Dogfighting schools in the world. Last year we made it to the finals of the International Championships representing the United Kingdom. I was in that team." James paused to take a breath and surveyed his three friends. Kaito and Koji were rapt. Even Tatsuo looked surprised. Kaito motioned for him to carry on.

"We were pitched against the Munich Academy. They're the best Dogfighting school in the world, they've been the international champions for seven years in a row. Their Commander is Reinhardt Schneider. He's the greatest schoolboy pilot the sport's ever seen." James realised he was digressing; he'd spent the last six months trying to forget everything he knew about Dogfighting. Now, everything was coming back to him. He may as well just get to the point. Clearing his throat he continued.

"During the finals… something happened. I… you see… I had… there was…" He began to stumble over his words.

"James." He looked up at Kaito who was watching him with a concerned expression. "Just take your time, ok?" He nodded and swallowed. This was the first time he had explained what had happened to anyone.

"I was performing an aerial manoeuvre when I collided with another aircraft." Images began to resurface from the depths of his subconscious. He could see vividly the moment he had collided with Schneider. He could practically feel the G-force as his Spitfire spun out of control. He remembered the moment before Schneider had bailed, the split-second in which they had eye contact, the loathing radiating from his eyes. The intricate scar formation running alongside his head began to throb with pain. Wincing ever so slightly, he carried on.

"The collision made us both enter a pretty much uncontrollable spin. In Dogfighting pilots rely entirely on ejector systems for safety. Whilst he managed to recover and bail out of his aircraft, I couldn't." He could see the expressions of the three boys darken as he went on.

"My ejector system failed completely, something that isn't supposed to be possible." In the aftermath of the incident, upon awaking from a medically induced coma, he had been told why his ejector mechanism had failed. During the collision, a section of the tail of Schneider's 109 had torn into the underbelly of the Spitfire, damaging the system to the point where it malfunctioned.

"I managed to partially recover from the spin and crash landed my aircraft on the English Channel. I was knocked unconscious during the landing. By the time I woke up my plane was already sinking." He steadied himself once again using the sink as support.

"I sunk nearly 300 feet. I was under the water for around a quarter of an hour before the rescue teams found me. By then I was completely fucked, no pulse, lungs full of water, shrapnel damage and a fractured skull. I was airlifted to hospital where I was placed in a medically induced coma. They resuscitated me nearly three weeks afterwards." James took a breath and looked up. All three boys looked appalled.

"I walked away from Dogfighting after that. I had to see a psychiatrist for a couple of months to help me cope with the…" He trailed off, his vision cast downwards. Once again focusing on his breathing, he continued.

"That was the reason I came to Ooarai in the first place. I knew I couldn't stay in England. I'd never be able to forget there. I couldn't transfer to America or Europe either, nearly everyone recognised me there too. Ooarai seemed like the best place. Isolated, no Dogfighting or Tankery teams, most of all, no-one who would know me. I thought I could leave what happened behind me, I wouldn't have to be constantly tortured by the memories of it every single fucking day. I could escape Dogfighting, you know, once and for all." James' breath hitched in his throat. Turning away from the trio in front of him, he leaned on the sink. He thought he had cried himself dry earlier, yet he now felt tears begin to form.

No.

He wouldn't cry, not in front of them. He couldn't show them how weak he was. They would think he was pathetic. Jesus Christ. Why the hell had he told them all of this? He'd kept it all bottled up inside him for over six months. Now, he was unloading all of it onto three people he had barely known for more than a day.

He was useless. Fucking useless. His once chance for a new start and he had gone and fucked it up. Now everyone would know who he was. Would these three even want to be friends with him after seeing him break like this? His father had been right, he was just so…

James' train of thought was cut off by the feeling of a hand on his with his shoulder. Slowly, he turned to see the face of Kaito. He looked at him sympathetically…

No. He wasn't looking at him with sympathy. It was something else.

Acceptance.

He looked as though he appreciated it, the pain, the trauma, the anger, the self-loathing. Instead of blind, ignorant sympathy, there was recognition and a desire to help. He looked over Kaito's shoulder at Koji and Tatsuo. Their expressions were empathetic, but simultaneously they were supportive.

"James." He looked back at Kaito who placed both hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry about what happened. No one should have to experience what you did." He glanced at Koji and Tatsuo who looked back at him encouragingly.

"Listen, at Ooarai we judge people for the content of their character, not the events of their past."

"We think you're a great person J. That's why we took you under our wing." Koji said with a grin. Tatsuo rolled his eyes. So far these three had never failed to make him smile. Kaito spoke once more.

"If you don't want to do Dogfighting, you don't have to do Dogfighting."

"Yeah." Tatsuo spoke up. "It doesn't matter what the Student Council say."

"At the end of the day, it's your choice man." Koji added.

"We're on your side, whatever you choose." Kaito smiled.

James was silent, completely and utterly dumbfounded by the words of the three boys stood in front of him. Never had he been treated with such kindness, respect and decency in his entire life.

"Guys… you don't have to do this…"

"No, we do. We're your friends, we look out for each other, right?" Kaito reinforced. James suppressed a smile.

"Right."

"Just remember, you ever need to talk, we're here." He gestured to himself alongside Koji and Tatsuo.

"Cheers lads." James managed a smile. "Means a lot."

"It's alright, now come on, we have homeroom as our last lesson of the day. Let's try and actually turn up for that." Kaito winked at James before turning on his heels and walking towards the door. Koji and Tatsuo motioned for him to come with them.

Taking one last breath, James composed himself, and followed.

* * *

The four friends, having stopped by Room 109 in West Block to pick up their bags were making their way back to their Form Room in South Block. As they were already late for their lesson, they made no rush to get to their final period of the day.

The leisurely conversation they had on the way consisted mainly of Koji badgering James about his life back in England. Kaito and Tatsuo were clearly irritated at the interrogation occurring next to them, but James didn't mind. He appreciated how Koji took care to steer clear of anything related to Dogfighting.

"So you really went to an all boy's school?" He asked incredulously.

"Well… yeah." James admitted.

"What was that like? Did you still get girls? Actually, that's a good question, what are English girls like?"

"Oh my god. Koji. Shut up." Kaito lamented.

"What? I'm trying to expand my horizons!" Koji defended himself earnestly. Tatsuo scoffed.

"English Girls? I see you've raised your standards from last year Koji." Koji looked over at a very complacent Tatsuo in confusion. All of a sudden, he seemed to put two and two together, and a look of horror came over his face. Kaito burst out laughing.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Koji seemed to be struggling to mask his embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sure you do big man!" Kaito slapped him on the back.

"Mr Ishikawa." Tatsuo spoke with mock formality. "Is the name… Sodoko familiar to you?" Koji's face darkened as Tatsuo spoke.

"We don't talk about that."

"Now this sounds interesting." James cut in, a grin on his face.

"Believe me, it is." Tatsuo said smugly.

"Nope." Koji put his hands over his ears. "Don't wanna hear it."

"It's fucking amazing." Kaito was in hysterics at the expense of his friend.

"The date was 28th November 2024." Tatsuo began to set the scene. "We were at a party…"

"Fuzakeru na Tatsuo!" Koji switched to his native dialect as he reached out and grabbed hold of Tatsuo. Despite his best efforts to evade him, Tatsuo could not escape the all encompassing bear hug of Koji Ishikawa. Regardless of the fact he was now trapped within Koji's vice like grip, Tatsuo continued.

"So Koji decided it would be a good idea…" He was speaking in between peals of laughter.

"Shut your mouth Tats." Koji barked.

"To get it on with a certain girl…" Tatsuo was interrupted as Koji put his hand over his mouth. He spotted a bin over by a set of lockers.

"Shut it or you're going in the trash."

"Sodoko!" Kaito wheezed, in absolute stitches.

"Koji was smooching Sodoko!" Tatsuo announced, having managed to remove his hand from his mouth.

"Right, that's it. You're going in." Koji declared, hoisting a hysterical Tatsuo over to the trash can. As he lifted him over the bin, Tatsuo managed to slip out of his grip, fleeing to safety behind James and Kaito.

"Sodoko!" Kaito and Tatsuo both jeered at Koji simultaneously.

"Look, we all make mistakes." Koji defended himself, trudging back over to the group.

"Who the hell is Sodoko?" James inquired.

"You haven't met her yet?" Tatsuo asked, incredulous.

"She's the President of the 'Public Morals Committee'." Kaito explained rather disdainfully. James spent a couple of seconds processing this. Suddenly, realisation came over his face.

"Is she like, very short with black hair?"

"Yeah." Kaito answered.

"Her name doesn't happen to be Midoriko or something?" He asked. Kaito and Tatsuo's faces lit up, whilst Koji groaned.

"Yes! Midoriko Sono!" Tatsuo burst out laughing.

"He's met her!" Kaito nudged a very surly Koji.

"Yay." He mumbled unenthusiastically.

"No way! She's the one that did my tour on induction day." James looked over at Koji. "And you…" He dissolved into laughter, the idea of Koji and "Sodoko" being too much for him to handle. Koji turned to Tatsuo.

"I want you to know that you're a terrible human being."

"Aw, don't worry Koji!" Kaito gave him a friendly nudge as they continued walking. "It's all in the past." Koji grumbled something obscene in reply.

"Yeah." James was still recovering from his fit of laughing. "I understand mate, I've made some questionable decisions in the past too."

"Please feel free to share them, maybe I can learn from your mistakes." Koji answered.

"Unfortunately for you my slightly overweight friend." Tatsuo began. "I think you're a lost cause."

"Oh I'm sorry Tats, I didn't realise you were the girls guru round these parts." Koji replied sarcastically. James smirked. He already felt so much better. He was so lucky he had found these three.

* * *

Having arrived five minutes late for Homeroom, the four friends made their way to their desks at the back of the classroom. Sitting down, Koji opened up his bag and proceeded to empty its contents out onto his desk.

"Jesus Christ, do you understand the concept of filing?" James gawped at the chaotic mass of paper stacked on his desk. Koji shrugged in reply.

"Nah, too much effort."

As he began to sift through the profusion of paper, a single sheet slipped out and careered downwards to the ground, settling at James' feet. Picking it up, he recognised it as the Mandatory Elective form. It had a number of different options including calligraphy, judo, aikido, flower arrangement, incense and so on. Two immediately caught his eye, namely because they were situated in the middle of the paper and written in brash bold lettering.

 **Sensha-do**

 **Hikoki-sen**

James did not struggle to recognise the Japanese terms for Tankery and Dogfighting. He forced the momentary feelings of dread from out of his mind. He had already established he would never be doing Dogfighting again. What was the point in acting like this everytime he caught wind of anything to do with it? He was in the process of handing the paper back to Koji when he noticed something. In the box adjoining the Dogfighting option, there was a large, black cross. His heart sank.

As Koji took the paper back off him, he noticed James' sudden change in demeanour.

"You alright J?" He instinctively glanced at the sheet of paper he had just been handed. It did not take long for him to connect the dots. He sprung into action, taking a pen out of his pocket and drawing a thick line through the cross. He observed the paper closely, looking for something in particular. He appeared to find it, and drew a cross next to the Judo option. He looked back up at James with a grin.

"You ever done Judo before man?"

"Koji…" James lowered his voice. "Honestly, you don't have to…"

"Of course I do." He quickly became serious. "Mandatory electives take up half your school life. What kind of friend would I be if I left you on your own doing something like ninja?" He stressed the final word with disgust.

"What's wrong with ninja?" James asked.

"Only weirdos do ninja." Tatsuo joined the conversation.

"Yeah, don't do ninja." Kaito advised.

"See what I mean." Koji gestured to the others as if to prove his point. James shook his head.

"Koji, look, I don't want you backing out of something you want to try just because of me. I would feel like shit if you did that. I would much rather you just do what you want to do. If you fancy Dogfighting, you should sign up for it, I reckon you'd like it." Koji looked down at the sheet and then back up at James, as if weighing up his options. After several seconds, he uncapped his pen and drew a second cross in the Judo category, reinforcing his decision. He sat back in his chair and looked back over at him.

"Sorry J, but you're doing Judo with me." James felt bewildered.

"I don't understand… You wanted to do Dogfighting, why are you changing your mind now?"

"Three reasons. One. You're not doing it."

"That's not a valid reason."

"Yes it is, you're my friend, it wouldn't be the same without you." Before James could reply, Koji carried on.

"Two, my parents would probably disown me." James frowned at him, confused.

"Koji's family have a long tradition in Judo." Kaito explained. "He's actually pretty good at it. He won a regional competition last year."

"But I hate it." Koji interjected. "The rules are so strict and it's so repetitive. It's just boring." He sighed. "Still, my parents are pretty adamant that I carry on the family tradition." He spoke of Judo with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. "Anyways, reason number three is that… well… I kind of have a thing about heights." There was silence for a moment as everyone stared incredulously at Koji who sat twiddling his thumbs. Then, all four of them burst out laughing. James was about to make a retort when the announcement system crackled to life.

"Calling all Students. Convene in the Gym. I repeat, Convene in the gym." He recognised the voice as belonging to one of the Student Council Members. He turned to his friends.

"That's uhhh… Momo something?"

"Momo Kawashima." Kaito corrected him. "Or as we like to call her." He turned to Koji. "How would you say it in English?"

"Bitchface." Koji said matter-of-factly. James chuckled.

"Looks like we should make our way to the gym then." Tatsuo yawned stretching out in his seat. Standing up, they filed out of the room alongside their classmates and began to make their way to the Gym in Main Block.

* * *

Walking into the gym, James surveyed the enormous crowd of pupils. His eyes soon came to rest on a head of auburn hair. He made his way over to Miho and sat himself down next to her.

"What do you think this is all about then?" He whispered to the girl on his right. When this elicited no response, he turned to look at her.

"Miho?" He prompted. The girl started, abruptly turning to face him.

"Yeah?" Her voice cracked. Her eyes were slightly red.

"Hey, are you alright?" James examined her, concerned.

"Yeah. Fine." She nodded, put on an obviously false smile, and turned back to the front. Although she endeavoured to make herself appear relaxed, her eyes betrayed her. She looked as though she had been on the verge of crying. She hugged her legs to her chest tightly, making her look small and dejected.

Kaito came and sat down next to him, followed closely by Koji and Tatsuo.

"Fucking Student Council. They always do this." Kaito groaned. James didn't hear him, he was too busy looking at Miho.

"James?" Kaito gave him a friendly shove, getting his attention. "You good?"

"Yeah." He answered, not taking his eyes off Miho. Kaito followed his gaze.

"You thinking about her?" He gestured at Miho who was now conversing with Hana and Saori.

"Yeah." There appeared to be something wrong with her. Everything she did was lethargic, devoid of the usual cheerfulness that had accompanied her personality earlier in the day. Kaito suddenly elbowed him.

"What kinda things man?" He gave him a wink. It took James several seconds to realise what he was insinuating.

"Kaito. No. I know what you're thinking."

"What? She's nice! Nothing wrong with it." He grinned.

"Yeah, and I've hardly known her for longer than a day." Kaito rolled his eyes and mumbled something incoherent in Japanese before pulling out his phone. James turned back to Miho once more. She stared ahead at the empty stage, almost unblinkingly. He couldn't help but notice how vulnerable she looked. Despite not knowing what was wrong, he desperately wanted to make everything alright for her.

He looked more closely at her, no longer caring if he got caught staring.

There it was again. That feeling of familiarity. He had definitely seen this girl somewhere before. But where? He racked his brains, but to no avail.

Why? How on earth did he, James Wright, having lived in England his entire life, recognise her, Miho Nishizumi, who had been on the other side of the world to him? He thought over the name in his head.

Then, it hit him.

Nishizumi.

He silently swore in disbelief. How had he been so slow? He realised now that he knew that name all too well. In fact, he had heard it many times before. This was down to one particular reason. There was another person who also possessed that surname.

Maho Nishizumi.

The mere action of saying her name in his head actually sent shivers down his spine. Jesus Christ. He didn't even do Tankery and that name still unnerved him.

She was the stuff of legend in schools all round the world, universally hailed as one of the best Tank Commanders the sport had ever seen. James had been around enough girls from schools such as St Gloriana's, Queensland, Saunders, BC Freedom… he could go on and on. All he knew was that that name struck fear into the hearts of even the most skillful Tank Commanders.

Maho Nishizumi.

The Overall Commander of the Black Forest Peak Girls' Academy.

James was now certain of where he knew Miho from. He remembered very well that bitterly cold day in the February of last year. It had taken place in Southern Poland, on the outskirts of Krakow. That had been the location of the School's Tankery International Championships Final.

He had gone along with Connor and his family who had somehow obtained tickets to watch the match. It had been the renowned Black Forest Peak Girls' Academy versus the infamous Pravda, a Russian school known for its enormous arsenal and brutal tactics. Despite not sympathising with either of the teams, he had ended up rooting for Pravda, as they had the status of the underdog.

He remembered the match as being one of the most intense things he had ever witnessed. The ferocious battle culminated in one of the biggest upsets in the history of Tankery. Pravda beat the Black Forest Peak Academy.

This had been down to an incident that had occurred in the closing stages of the match. Whilst navigating a particularly narrow pass overhanging the tumultuous Vistula River, a section of the path had come loose causing one of the Black Forest Peak's Panzerkampfwagen IIIs to career downwards into the dark, unforgiving waters below, its crew all still trapped inside.

James had been shocked to see such an enormous machine sucked mercilessly under the frothing rapids. He was even more shocked when he saw the Commander of the Black Forest Peak's Flag Tank, a Tiger I, scramble out of her vehicle and begin running down the steep incline in order to rescue her drowning teammates. He had not been able to see what happened next, all he knew was that the Black Forest Peak's Flag Tank had been decimated by a shot from the powerful 122mm main gun of one of Pravda's IS-2s.

Pravda were victorious. There had been an uproar. The Black Forest Peak Academy had won the International Tankery Championships for the past nine years running. They were denied a record ten consecutive victories, all because the Commander of their Flag Tank had deserted her vehicle in order to help her teammates.

The concept that this very person was sitting directly next to him was almost implausible to James. Yet he knew it to be true.

"Miho." He spoke. As if awoken from a trance once again, she turned to him, a neutral expression on her face.

How the hell was he going to ask her this? It was obviously a sensitive subject for her.

"I was just wondering… you know… were you… do you have a…"

James was interrupted by an authoritative voice that boomed throughout the gym. Standing on a raised platform at the very front of the room were the five members of the Student Council. The voice of Momo Kawashima speaking in her native dialect reverberated off the walls of the room, silencing all. Eventually, she finished her monologue, turning on her heels she led the rest of the student council to the side of the stage where they stood to attention.

James turned back to Miho in an attempt to regain her attention, but her eyes were dead set on the stage in front of her. The room darkened as a large projector screen was illuminated. Kaito leaned over to him.

"Bitchface is now going to show us a nice briefing on our mandatory electives." James attempted to smile at Kaito's sarcastic tones.

Kanji letters appeared on the screen. As usual, he was completely unable to decipher their meaning. Kaito proceeded to give him a running commentary.

"That says 'Introduction to Sensha-Do'." He whispered.

James recognised the traditional Japanese term for Tankery. Koji appeared to notice this too.

"Sensha-Do. That's the one with the tanks isn't it?" James nodded. A female voiceover in Japanese emanated from the speakers situated around the gym. Photos of various Tanks appeared on the screen. James recognised the celebrated British Mark IV, a World War One era tank as one of them

"She's talking about Tankery being a part of Japanese culture." Kaito was translating for him once more. "She says it's enjoyed by girls from many nations all around the world." This was evidently a very old introduction video. Nowadays, whilst Tankery was still a girls dominated sport, boys teams were very common.

The screen depicted a number of girls in uniform lined up. The video jumped to five girls stood in front of what looked like a variant of the Panzer III. Kaito was talking again.

"Apparently it's a strong yet delicate art that makes girls and women polite, modest… yeah, you get the idea." He didn't sound convinced.

"This sounds like bullshit." Tatsuo murmured, his frown becoming more prominent as the video went on.

"The Tanks are cool." Koji remarked. James grunted in acknowledgement. Whilst he appreciated the incredible engineering and skill it required to operate a tank, he didn't really buy into any of the ideas that Tankery somehow made you a better person, the same went for Dogfighting. In many people, these sports brought out the worst in them.

The Panzer III displayed on the screen came to abrupt stop. All of a sudden, an enormous roar resonated around the hall as the main gun was fired. This caused a cacophony of shocked murmurs and awe-struck whispers. James glanced to his right. Hana and Saori appeared entranced by the screen in front of them. Miho on the other hand, was trying to ignore it. Hugging her legs up to her chest, she rested her head on her knees. He could see her eyes were squeezed shut.

He couldn't help but sympathise with her. If he was right about who she was, then their situations were admittedly similar. He desperately wanted to comfort her. To shuffle over and wrap his arms around her, tell her that everything would be alright, make her feel safe once more. But that would be inappropriate. He restrained himself.

As he looked back up, the induction video was coming to a close. The hall was filled with excited murmurs as it finished. James couldn't deny, whilst Tankery as a sport had never appealed to him, driving a Tank would be a pretty cool experience, he could definitely see why it was so popular.

The whispers were suddenly hushed as the projector whirred up once more. On the screen, one word.

"Dogfighting."

James let out a weary sigh, letting his head rest in his hands. Even now, he just couldn't escape it.

The video was evidently made much more recently in comparison to the Tankery induction. The voiceover was in English and the picture quality was much better. In fact, James was pretty sure he had seen this before somewhere on YouTube.

The voiceover was done by Alfred Wiley, a professional Dogfighter who had captained the United States team to victory in the 2021 Dogfighting World Cup. Alfred Wiley was one of James' heroes; well, he had been. It had become extremely difficult for him to look upon any aspect of Dogfighting favourably after the incident. The video began with a P-51 Mustang flying next to a Lockheed Martin F-22A Raptor. James couldn't help but appreciate the stark contrast between the WW2 era single engine propeller aircraft and the sleek, futuristic frame of the twin jet engine fighter currently used by the USAF. Both were marvellous feats of human engineering. The F-22 was particularly admired. It was the aircraft flown by Alfred Wiley himself in the World Cup Final in Russia where he had successfully shot down four German Eurofighter Typhoons.

The video continued as the smooth American drawl of Alfred Wiley emanated from the speakers.

"Dogfighting. The greatest sport the world has ever known." James clenched his jaw. He looked to his left. Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo were all completely absorbed in what was unfolding in front of them. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Reo. His face, illuminated by the screen, bore a wide-eyed expression of wonder. He turned back to the front. In his peripheral vision he could see Miho looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He concentrated on the screen.

Had she experienced a similar epiphany to him? Did she now realise who he was?

The induction video, obviously aimed towards a younger, American audience, depicted a dogfight between a Japanese Mitsubishi A6M Zero and an American Vought F4U Corsair, which had been one of James' favourite aircraft. He had had the opportunity to fly one once whilst in America visiting his friend Jason Styles. It was one of the fastest aircraft he had ever flown, with a top speed of over 720 kilometres per hour. Alfred was speaking again.

"Fast, Intense, Exhilarating. Dogfighting truly is an art which requires skill, precision and above all, determination." As he spoke the video cut to various different aircraft. For a moment, the screen was graced by a Supermarine Spitfire. James sharply inhaled as he observed the beautiful aircraft soaring majestically through the air.

Alfred Wiley was speaking again, but he had tuned out. He could almost feel the raw power of sitting in the seat of a Spitfire, that terrifying yet invigorating feeling of riding some sort of beast. His mind cast itself back into the cockpit. He could see vividly his gloved hands pulling down on the trigger, he could hear the roar of the Browning machine guns as crimson fire exploded from their muzzles. He could feel the savage effects of the g-force when he would roll the plane or suddenly pull out of a dive. He could recall the awe inspired by the beauty of the sprawling skies when cruising aimlessly at 20,000 feet.

James suddenly felt a pang of regret.

As soon as it was there, it was gone. The video cut to a group of boys around his age wearing Flight suits, their masks hanging casually off of their helmets. They looked like they were from a mix of schools, James recognised the Nevada State High symbol on one of them.

"Just remember, if you put your mind to it, anybody can be a pilot. Try Dogfighting today for the experience of a lifetime. I'm Alfred Wiley, thank you for listening."

The video finished displaying a montage of Dogfights between various different aircraft accompanied by a cinematic orchestral piece. It made for quite an impressive spectacle, to the extent that when the projector was shut off, the excited murmurs from before rose to delighted exclamations, especially from the male students.

The noise died down once again as Momo strode back to centre-stage, followed by the Student Council members. She spoke rapidly in Japanese. Suddenly, she switched languages and began to speak in English.

"For any new Students, you may not know, but a few years ago it was announced that the final of the 2025 Joint Tankery and Dogfighting School's World Championships would be held in Japan." James couldn't but feel as though this was directed at him. As Momo finished speaking Touma took over.

"As such, the Ministry of Culture has requested that all schools strengthen their Tankery and Dogfighting teams to allow for Japan to have the greatest opportunity possible to be represented at the Finals." Suddenly Anzu took over.

"So, we've decided to end our school's current hiatus of Tankery and Dogfighting. If you choose it as your elective you'll get a bunch of cool benefits. Vice President?" She turned to Yuzu who began to read off a number of perks given to those who chose Tankery or Dogfighting as their Mandatory Elective.

"Those who perform well in the course will receive 100 meal tickets, 200 free passes if you're late, and finally three times the credit you'd receive in another class."

"Doesn't this seem a bit like bribery?" James whispered to Kaito.

"Yeah…" He didn't really seem to be listening, staring straight ahead at the stage. Switching back to Japanese, the Student Council began to talk once more. James began to zone out. He suddenly realised how tired he was. He had hardly slept at all last night. Resting his head on his hands, he closed his eyes.

* * *

James was awoken by a hand gently shaking his shoulder.

"James, wake up." He started.

"Yeah?" He scrambled to his feet.

"Briefing is over. Come on, you want to walk home together? Hana and Saori said they know some good places to get food." Miho gave him a warm smile.

"Food sounds great." He turned to look for his three friends, but they were nowhere to be found.

"Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo are talking over there by the way." Miho pointed at a group of five people conversing. "Seems like they're all crazy about Tankery and Dogfighting." James caught onto the miserable undertones in her voice.

"Oh. Well… That's pretty cool." He put on his best impartial voice. Miho looked up at him apprehensively.

"James, can I ask you something?" Oh God. She knew. Contrary to his actions earlier, he really did not want to have this conversation now. Fortunately, he was saved by Koji.

"Hey J, Miho! Come on, we're getting food at Atari-Ya." Silently thanking him, James turned back to Miho.

"Come on then, I'm starving."

* * *

Atari-Ya appeared to be some sort of Japanese Fast-Food chain, dealing mostly in Sushi. James sat next to Koji who was on his third dish already. Without warning, Saori exploded with excitement.

"You know what. I think I'm in!" The whole table turned to her in bemusement.

"In what?" Tatsuo asked.

"Tankery!" There were various murmurs of acknowledgment around the table as Saori continued. "I read in a magazine that modern guys like girls that are strong and dependable, and if Tankery is popular, it'll make you popular too!"

"I can second that." Koji added, mouth full of sushi.

"Yeah, he needs someone to make him food 24/7." Tatsuo remarked.

"You should take it too Miho. Your family does it right?" Saori gestured at Miho with her chopsticks. This confirmed James' preconceptions about her.

"Uh… I don't know…"

"Wait, Miho, you do Tankery?" Kaito asked, surprised.

"Not really. Not anymore." The girl answered, looking very interested in her glass of water.

"That's so cool! You should totally do it." Kaito reiterated Saori's point.

"Uh… yeah." Hana appeared to recognise that Miho was uncomfortable.

"I understand." She began, neatly putting her chopsticks down. "It's difficult isn't it? It may not seem like it but I'm in a similar situation. My family's history is in flower arrangement." James wondered if Miho had told Hana and Saori about her experiences like he had with his friends. It appeared as though they knew about her family's affiliation with Tankery, but not much more beyond that.

"Oh, really?" Miho asked, very glad to change the subject.

"But Tankery does seem rather wonderful don't you think?"

"Huh?" Miho looked bewildered at this sudden change of temperament on the part of Hana.

"The truth is, I've always wanted to do something that keeps me a little more active than flower arranging." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to do Tankery too, I've decided." Miho gasped, seemingly astonished by Hana's choice.

"What?"

"You should do it with us Miho. Teach us everything you know." She bowed politely to Miho. Saori leaned over and put her arms around her.

"If you take it, I bet you'll be able to make it to the top of the class in Maths no problem!" The ginger-haired girl suddenly appeared to have an idea.

"Hey!" She turned to the boys seated around the table. "You guys should totally do Dogfighting!" Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo shifted uncomfortably in their seats, casting glances over at James, who was managing to maintain an expression of indifference.

"I mean the World Championships is Joint Tankery and Dogfighting, so we'll all be together!" Saori looked like she was about to explode with excitement.

"Yeah… Well…" Kaito began, looking warily at James. "I mean, Koji has a… really bad fear of heights."

"Yes. It's awful." Tatsuo followed.

"Come on guys, it's not that bad!" Koji replied indignantly. "What I said earlier was…" Kaito gave Koji a dead-set look, using his eyes to gesture to James. He caught on.

"I mean… yeah, my fear of heights, awful, can't do anything… no way. Not for me." He laughed nervously.

"Yeah, and it wouldn't be fair if we all did it and he didn't. So we're going to do Judo." Kaito concluded. Saori looked disappointed.

"Oh… well I guess that's ok."

James felt terrible. He was certain that his friends had become captivated with the idea of Dogfighting, and that they wanted to pursue it.

In his mind, the only thing standing in the way of them and Dogfighting was him. He was depriving them of that experience, just because of some stupid accident he had had.

He was just thoughtless. He didn't deserve them. They hadn't even known him for longer than a day and yet all three of them, Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo were willing to cast off the opportunity to Dogfight so that they could be with him.

He was so selfish.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time they had said their goodbyes and parted ways. James and Miho were walking by the lamppost where they had met that very morning. So far, they had walked in silence, neither of them daring to speak. James was desperately trying to find a way of phrasing his situation to her. His train of thought was unceremoniously broken as the girl with the auburn hair stopped in her tracks. He halted and turned to look at her. The street was almost deserted.

"Miho? What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" She looked at him unhappily. James didn't answer. "I know who you are." He looked down at his feet, unable to reply.

"James." She strode over to him until their faces were mere inches apart, forcing him to look at her. Her gaze was unnervingly intense. That was the Nishizumi in her.

"Why are you lying to everyone?" She pressed on.

"I'm not." He grunted in reply.

"Then why are you lying to me?" She gestured to herself as she spoke. Once again, he didn't reply. "You were so genuine and nice to me this morning. I thought I'd found a friend. Now I find out you were lying the whole time?" Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly.

"Miho… please, you don't understand…"

"You think I don't understand?" All of a sudden, she looked furious. "You think I don't understand? Why do you assume you know how I feel? You don't know anything about me."

"Oh, is that right? You honestly think I'm that stupid." James felt himself becoming irritated with this girl now. "So am I wrong in saying that you're Miho Nishizumi, sister of Maho Nishizumi? Am I wrong in saying that you went to the fucking Black Forest Peak Academy? Is that incorrect information Miho?" James spoke through gritted teeth. "You accuse me of lying? Not only are you one of those German scumbags, you're a hypocrite too."

"I left Black Forest Peak. I'm not one of them, I was never one of them." She shook her head in exasperation. "You think you know me James. You think you know what I've been through… you have no idea."

"Hold on. You think you've had it bad?!" He burst out in sarcastic laughter. "You don't have a fucking clue mate. Why do you think I travelled halfway around the world to a school where I can't even speak the bloody language? Because I wanted to experience the culture?" He spoke mockingly.

"No. You came here because you're scared." The smile faded from James' face.

"What?"

"You left St George's for the same reason I left Black Forest Peak. You're running away from something…" She paused, staring searchingly into his eyes. Her light brown orbs shimmered in the low-light, as if speaking to him with a voice of their own. He fought to stop his lips from trembling.

"James, I know how hard it is. What happened in the final against Pravda…" He could see how hard she was trying in order to keep her composure. She swallowed and continued. "I was disgraced. My friends, my mother, my sister, everyone. I brought shame upon the Nishizumi name." For a second, Miho broke eye contact, looking sadly at a point over his shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with a mournful beauty. She suddenly seemed to remember what she was doing.

"Look. I came here for the same reason as you. To escape. You don't have to hide it from me James. It seems like we have a lot in common." She smiled sadly. He did not. "I understand what you're feeling. I know how much it hurts." She looked him dead in the eye. "James… Let me help you."

He couldn't bear it. It was all coming back, the scars inside his mind were fresh and oozing with painful memories.

He knew she was right. He was running away, desperately attempting to forget. He had woken up everyday since the incident and told himself it would all be fine. But he lied to himself, just like he lied to everyone else. It wasn't fine. He couldn't go a day without reminiscing some aspect of that appalling experience. Now, he had finally found someone who had experienced something similar. Someone who understood the pain, the anger, the helplessness, all of it.

Yet for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to let her help him.

Miho was strong. A lot stronger than him. She had the mental resilience to recognise what troubled her. She knew what she was running away from. She was aware that her relationship with her mother had deteriorated to the point of non-existence. Miho was not afraid to openly acknowledge her pain.

James was. He knew he was trying to get away from Dogfighting. He knew that the experience of the Final was eating away at him daily, slowly but surely eroding his mental stability. Despite this, he consistently tried to convince himself otherwise. Opening up to Kaito, Koji and Tatsuo earlier in the day had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He didn't know if he could do it again, even if it was with Miho. In the heat of the moment, he spoke.

"No."

"What?"

"No." He looked down at her resentfully. "I told you, you don't understand. You think our experiences are comparable? Give me a break." Miho looked taken aback.

"James, I…"

"Yeah, I get it. You lost the final for your school, I was there, I saw it. How awful Miho. How terrible, you lost a Tankery match. What a traumatic experience." His voice was thick with sarcasm. "Unbelievable." He whispered under his breath as he turned away and began to walk off.

"Did you even listen to anything I just said?" Miho called after him. Stopping in his tracks, he turned back to her.

"Yes I did. Look, I'm very sorry about what happened to you Miho, but the fact is what happened to me in that final was ten times more fucked. The last thing I need is you thinking you understand everything." She appeared shocked.

"How can you say…" Suddenly, he exploded with anger.

"Because I nearly fucking died!" She winced. "When they found me trapped in that fucking cockpit three hundred feet underwater my heart had actually stopped. And you know what?" She could see he was on the verge of tears. He lowered his voice. "It eats away at me, everything that happened in that match, it plagues my mind every single fucking day and night. So you know what Miho? Why don't you just accept that you will never understand what I went through and mind your own fucking business."

She stared at him, crestfallen. After a long silence, she spoke.

"I guess I was wrong." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You're just like all the others, aren't you? You don't care about anyone but yourself." She looked up at him spitefully. "People like you are the reason I came here."

"Well I guess it's all my fault then." James began to turn away, but not before he insulted her one last time. "After all, I should have known better. Why did I think I could be friends with a Nishizumi?" He spat the surname as if it was dirt in his mouth.

It was dark as he walked off.

The light upon the lamppost flickered into life, casting a soft orange glow on everything that dwelt beneath. The street was silent as the tendrils of lamplight caressed the auburn hair that had fallen across her face.

And so she stood.

Utterly alone.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who have shown their support to this story so far. I very much enjoy writing these chapters and am excited to get into the good stuff which is fast approaching. I would really like to hear any criticisms or suggestions that you guys have, so reviews would be very much appreciated! Once again, thank you.**

 **M**


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